


Sleepless

by StealingFire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dad Kane, Doctor Abby, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fatherhood, Fun with Kids, Funny, Grieving, It's going to be painful at times, Kabby, Minor Character Death, Mystery, New York City, Poignant, Private Investigator, father-son bonding, growing together, single parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealingFire/pseuds/StealingFire
Summary: When his best friend is killed, Private Investigator Marcus Kane is suddenly dad to three-year-old Nathan. Clueless, he must learn how to raise the boy while they both grieve. Enter child psychologist Dr Abby Griffin who soon becomes invaluable to them. As Kane learns more about the accident that claimed his friend's life, he wonders if their last case together is somehow to blame and soon his work life and his private life collide. Meanwhile, Abby is struggling with revelations in her own private life, and Kane and his son become just as important to her as she is to them.
Relationships: Abby Griffin & Marcus Kane, Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Comments: 170
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

Midnight in Brooklyn. New York was supposedly the city that never slept but not here, not in the subdued parking lot of the St. Tropez Motor Inn, a crumbling, boxy place with peeling paint and tiny windows. It looked like somewhere you’d try to escape from rather than pay to spend a night, if anyone ever stayed the whole night. Were the owners making a joke when they named it after the town on the French Riviera? No one was around, not even on Atlantic Avenue, which usually teemed with people and problems all along its stretch from Queens to the East River.

Marcus Kane sat in his Chevrolet Impala, tucked between a pickup truck and something with wheels about ten times too big for the chassis. A sticker in the window said Fuck Trump so the owner had some taste at least. From here he had a good view of the highway and the entrance to the Motor Inn. He scanned the area, reading for the tenth time the graffiti on the dumpster, taking in the potholes and the lone traffic cone that glowed orange in the glare of the security light above the door.

From the road came a figure, more of a moving shadow, until he stepped beneath the light and was illuminated briefly, his tight curly hair and his kind, determined face appearing ghostly. He came up to the car, opened the door and flopped into the passenger seat, bringing with him the aroma of fried meat.

“Did you go to Kentucky for this?” said Kane as his partner handed him a greasy packet containing his Zinger burger.

“Feel free to go yourself next time,” said Sinclair. “They had some problem with the fryer, I don’t know what it was.” He put a packet of fries on the dash and took a few.

“I drive, you cook, that’s the deal, and watch my upholstery!”

“I’ve put a napkin under it, jeez! You treat this car better than any woman you’ve known.”

“It is better than most of them.” Kane unwrapped his burger, took a huge bite. Hot and spicy, the way he liked it. “This is good,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

“I prefer McDonalds, but this is okay.”

Jacapo Sinclair was the same age as Kane – thirty-six – and they’d been friends since kindergarten. Kane couldn’t actually remember a time when Sinclair wasn’t in his life. They’d gone to the same school, joined the New York Police Department at the same time, and when Kane had been invalided out after the bodega shooting, it hadn’t crossed his mind for even a second not to invite Sinclair to join him in his new venture, Kane Investigations Inc. They’d been private investigators together for three years now and worked well. Sinclair was practical and methodical, willing to waste the shoe leather and do the hard slog. Kane was the thinker, Machiavellian at times in his ability to be more cunning than their subjects when it came to ensnaring them. They were a good team.

Their private lives were a different matter. Sinclair had been married for ten years to Emma whom he’d met at the police academy. They had a much longed-for son, Nathan, or Nate, who was two or three, Kane could never remember exactly, which was a poor state of affairs considering he was his godfather. The kid was cute as far as children went. He had his father’s Mediterranean complexion and dark, curly hair, and his mother’s green eyes and he seemed happy. Apart from that, Kane couldn’t say much about him.

Unlike Sinclair, family wasn’t exactly Kane’s reason for living. He liked to be on his own, footloose and fancy-free as his mother used to say. Confirmed bachelor he’d heard some of the guys at his old precinct say because he never brought a female partner to any events. He didn’t care what they thought, although women were his preference. He didn’t bring anyone to parties because there rarely was anyone. His love life was a disaster. The few women he met couldn’t take the long hours he worked. “The job’s your wife,” Sinclair often said, which was true, but Kane wouldn’t mind a mistress every now and then, someone who wasn’t too clingy, happy to pick things up when and where. That would be ideal.

“Any sign of anything while I was gone?” said Sinclair, squeezing ketchup onto the lid of the fries container.

“Nope. It’s probably livelier at Cypress Hills.”

They were two blocks over from the cemetery belt that bordered Brooklyn and Queens and Kane honestly thought there’d be more things of interest happening there than there were here. On the previous two nights they’d at least been entertained by a prostitute who’d brought a couple of clients to the parking lot, mercifully doing her business with them out of sight behind the dumpster, although the noises had carried. Kane had to shower twice a day when he was on a job like this.

He pulled a handful of fries from the shared container, dipped them one by one in the ketchup. His diet was appalling, he had to admit that. His doctor told him on his last check-up that he shouldn’t fool himself he was fit because he had a slim physique and good muscle tone, which was genetic and nothing to do with any effort he’d made. “You’re fat on the inside,” he’d said, the smirk on his face suggesting he’d enjoyed giving Kane that news.

It was true he ate badly and didn’t exercise much. The bullet in his thigh had nearly paralysed him and it had been a struggle back to some semblance of fitness. He couldn’t jog like he used to or lift weights or do circuits. Had he used that as an excuse to be lazy? Maybe. He ought to get back to it, find something that wouldn’t result in him waking crying in the night from the pain.

“It’s our anniversary tomorrow,” said Sinclair, disturbing Kane from his reverie.

“Mine and yours? How the time has flown. It seems like only yesterday you had skinned knees and a hole in your pants, and I felt sorry for you.”

“No, idiot. Mine and Emma’s!”

“I know,” said Kane, laughing. “What is that now, ten years, eleven?”

“Twelve! God, you’re hopeless.”

“You already know that.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“We’re taking Nate to Prospect Park and then to dinner. Then it will be an early night for me and Emma hopefully.”

“What, you’re not coming out to this beautiful parking lot with me on your anniversary?”

“You know you’re my third greatest love after Emma and Nate, but no, you’ll have to do without me one night.”

“I’ll survive somehow.”

“If you get lonely there’s always the dumpster queen,” he said, referring to the prostitute they’d seen.

“Nah, she doesn’t kiss her clients, and you know I like your kisses.” Kane leaned across and pretended to grab Sinclair.

“Fuck off!” Sinclair said, pushing him away and laughing. “You need a woman, a decent one.”

“I’m not going to find anyone on Atlantic Avenue, no one better than the dumpster queen anyway.”

“We need some jobs in Manhattan, get a better standard of client, some fancy woman who’ll take a shine to your pretty face and want you as her toy boy.”

“I think I’m beyond the age of being considered a toy boy.”

“Not for some rich old widow. One of those in the fur coats from the Upper West Side who has a miniature dog in a purse. You want one of those.”

Kane shuddered at the thought. “No thanks. I’d rather be alone.”

At that moment the door to the motor inn opened. He scrambled to get his camera, knocking the remains of his burger to the floor. He got some pictures of the man who left and blew them up on the camera’s screen so he could examine them.

“Is that him?” said Sinclair peering over his shoulder.

“No. Dammit!”

“Are you sure he comes here?”

“Yes, my intelligence is solid.”

“He’s filthy rich, though isn’t he? Would you come to a place like this to get a fuck when you’re a billionaire?”

“I wouldn’t come to a place like this to get a fuck if one would save my life!”

“You’re so particular,” said Sinclair, laughing.

“He’s not here for regular sex, or even regular kinky.”

“What’s regular kinky to you, Kane?”

“I don’t know. Handcuffs, whipping, shit like that.”

“At last, the insight into Marcus Kane’s mysterious sex life I’ve always wanted,” teased Sinclair.

“Who hasn’t used their handcuffs?” he said, grinning.

Sinclair made a zipping gesture across his lips.

“Something else is going on in there. Something a lot nastier,” said Kane, becoming serious.

“We’ll never find out if he doesn’t show.”

“Tuesday is his preferred day but that doesn’t mean he’ll come today. He doesn’t stick rigidly to a timetable.”

“Doesn’t have to schedule his sexual encounters like some of us, I guess.”

Kane looked with surprise at Sinclair. “Trouble on the domestic front?”

“No, no, but Nate is into everything right now and needs a lot of attention. It’s hard to find time. We’ve resorted to scheduling play dates for him which really are play dates for us.”

“At least you’re getting some.”

“There, there,” said Sinclair, patting Kane’s shoulder. “You can get these dolls now that are very realistic.”

“Fuck off!” Kane was about to hit Sinclair when he saw movement. “Here we go,” he said, and he got his camera, started clicking as a tall, bearded man in an expensive suit was framed perfectly beneath the light for a glorious second. “That’s definitely him.”

The man went inside and a minute later two women turned up. They weren’t women, though, when Kane looked at the camera roll afterwards. They were young girls, underage definitely. It didn’t sit right in his gut leaving them to go in there and face god knows what, but the operation was bigger than them, however terrible that was to think.

It was an unusual case for Kane Investigations in that their client was the New York Police Department. The surveillance work had been outsourced to them because there were trust issues within the department. That was the polite way of saying they didn’t know who was dirty and who wasn’t, and therefore everyone was suspect. The man they’d been waiting for was a businessman, Bill Cadogan, sixty-five-year-old CEO of an enormous food and drink conglomerate that supplied most of the world with its coronary-inducing sugary confections. Kane was partial to their caramel chocolate bar. He’d briefly considered boycotting their products when he’d found out what the CEO was being investigated for, but then he’d realised that would mean starving to death because he couldn’t cook and didn’t know a thousand things to make with rice, which was about the only thing the man didn’t have a share in.

The CEO was friendly with the top brass in the NYPD, the Mayor, the Senator and anyone who was anyone. No one in power could be relied upon not to leak information to Cadogan, so the job had come from a small task force headed by Captain David Miller and had been given to the two ex-detectives. It was something to be so trusted, Kane supposed, and he’d built up a good reputation in the three years since he’d formed the agency.

The case was a sex scandal, weren’t they always when it involved rich men? This one was particularly unpalatable as there were rumours of underage girls being forced to perform perverse acts, and some of them were alleged to have gone missing, although Kane and Sinclair had found no evidence of that. They weren’t supposed to be looking deeply into this yet, but they’d both been perturbed by the rumours and didn’t feel there was time to wait. Sinclair had been running up a few leads, and Kane was plotting a potential sting operation so they’d be ready should they get the go-ahead.

An hour after they went in, the girls came out again. Kane photographed them and looked closely at the pictures. There were no obvious signs of physical abuse, but he’d examine everything in more detail at home later. Ten minutes later the CEO came out again. He too looked the same.

“At least they’re alive,” said Sinclair. He stretched and yawned. “Time for bed, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Kane. He drove Sinclair home to Glen Oaks, declined the offer of a nightcap because he knew Sinclair was tired and he didn’t want to wake up Emma or the boy. “Happy anniversary for, I guess today!”

“Thanks, man.”

“Enjoy your dinner, don’t think about me stuck out there alone while you have a nice time and get laid, will you?”

“I certainly won’t. Don’t resort to dumpster queen – you can do better.”

“Get in you bastard,” said Kane, grinning. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

He watched as Sinclair went into the house then drove the forty minute journey to his apartment in Williamsburg. It wasn’t the best area, but he lived on the fifth floor and had a partial view of the East River and Lower Manhattan, once you overlooked the shipping containers and huge industrial complexes across the street. The avenue he lived on was up and coming, but the gentrification hadn’t reached his end yet, and he was grateful for that. They’d want to knock his building down and replace it with something that would cost ten times as much to live in.

He limped up the stairs, his leg aching from sitting for so long in the car. He made a coffee in the galley kitchen, took it into the living room which was small but had everything he needed, namely sofa, TV, and a big coffee table that was covered in photographs and files from his current job. He’d just finished painting the room white which might be boring to some but made the place look brighter and bigger. The smell of the paint still lingered.

Kane put his coffee on the table then hooked up his camera to his laptop. It was three in the morning, but he struggled to sleep when he’d been on a late-night job, unlike Sinclair who was probably out before Kane had turned the corner of his street. He went through the photos, marking up the ones he wanted to print when he got to the office the following day. An hour later he crawled into bed. His leg was aching so much he couldn’t lie on his side because that put pressure on the old wound, so he lay on his back. He would probably snore but there was no one to hear him so what did it matter?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane receives some devastating news, and realises his whole life is about to change.

By noon the next day Kane was in his office which was a tiny two-roomed place above a kosher supermarket on Bedford Avenue a ten-minute walk from his apartment. The second room was little bigger than a cupboard and they used it as a kitchen-cum-filing area. Kitchen was euphemistic. It had an old Formica table upon which stood a microwave and a kettle. There was no bathroom. If they needed the toilet, they had to use the public one in the supermarket. The main room had two desks crammed into it at right angles to each other, old wooden ones Kane had got at an office sale. He thought they suited the image of a rugged private eye in old New York. The chairs were old as well, dark wood with red leather back and cushion. Sinclair complained constantly about how uncomfortable they were, and Kane couldn’t argue, but they weren’t in the office often, and he loved them, so that was that.

He made notes on the previous night’s work, printed the photos he wanted and put them into the file. He finished reports on a couple of completed cases and emailed them to his clients.

At three he got a text from Sinclair.

_Had a minor breakthrough with Operation Dumpster. Interesting rather than explosive so don’t get excited. I’ll tell you tomorrow._

Kane laughed at the name Sinclair had given their surveillance.

_Is it a four-donut breakthrough?_

They had a jokey system of rewards for when they made any significant progress in a case.

_I’d like to say yes but no. One will do. You know the one._

He meant chocolate sprinkles which had been his favourite since he was a kid.

_It will be waiting for you_

_You’re a good man, Kane_

_Go be with your family. I’ll see you tomorrow._

He settled back to his work, going out only to pick up a pizza bagel from the deli down the street. He got some pickles to go with it to fool himself that he was eating healthily.

At six he got a call from an unknown number, answered it expecting it to be a prospective client.

“Kane Investigations, Marcus Kane speaking.”

“Mr Kane, it’s Officer Roberts from the seventy-eighth precinct.”

Kane didn’t recognise the man’s name. The precinct was south from here he thought, in Prospect Heights. “What can I do for you, Officer Roberts?”

“Do you know a Mr Jacapo Sinclair, Sir?”

“I do, yes, what’s happened?” Kane felt a tightening in his stomach.

“I’m afraid Mr Sinclair has been in a car accident, Sir. You’re named as his next of kin.”

“His next of kin? I’m not his next of kin that would be his wife. Is he okay?”

“All I know is he’s been injured, his wife too.”

“Okay.” Kane shut his laptop, grabbed his jacket while he was still on the phone. “Where is he?”

“He’s at Kings County Hospital Centre, Sir.”

“Thanks, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

His car was at his apartment which was ten minutes away and it was a half hour drive to the hospital. Kane ran home, ignoring his protesting leg. He rang Sinclair’s cell phone as he ran, but it went straight to voicemail. Dammit!

What the hell had happened? They were having a day out with the boy. Oh, they were going to Prospect Park! Fuck!

He drove as fast as he dared to the hospital, abandoned his car in the lot and hurried into the lobby, going straight to the reception.

“My friend was brought in. His name’s Sinclair. Jacapo Sinclair.”

A tiny woman with short dark hair looked him up and down. “Are you a relative of Mr Sinclair?”

“I was called. I was told to come in.”

A police officer approached him, neat brown hair, blue eyes, not one he knew by face. “Mr Kane?”

“Yes. Do you know what’s happening?”

“I’m Officer Roberts, we spoke on the phone. Can you come with me?” He moved off, giving Kane no choice but to follow.

They walked down a long corridor. The smell of antiseptic and pervading illness was making Kane sick, although it wasn’t really the smell because he was used to that, had spent months in a hospital like this recovering from the shooting. It was the fear making him sick, an underlying knowledge that everything was about to change.

Officer Roberts opened the door to a room with grey walls and grey carpet and pictures of flowers. Kane knew rooms like this well, had stood in them rather like the way the officer was standing now. Ramrod straight, eyes ahead for fear of showing too much of what he knew. Shit.

“Are you going to tell me what’s happening? How’s Sinclair? How’s Emma?” He knew he shouldn’t be pressuring the officer because it wasn’t his job to inform him of whatever had to be told, but desperation had taken hold in his gut now. He had to know.

“The consultant’s on his way,” said Roberts, and Kane nodded.

He took deep breaths, tried to focus. A minute later and the door opened. A man in a white coat entered.

“Mr Marcus Kane?” he said.

“Yes. What’s happening?”

“I’m Doctor Bhatia. As you may have been told, Mr and Mrs Sinclair have been involved in a car accident. They were brought here for treatment but I’m afraid I have to tell you that unfortunately their injuries were not survivable. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kane stared at him, saw nothing except the wide mouth and pink lips that were delivering this news to him. Even though he felt deep in his gut it was true he couldn’t process the information, didn’t believe what the doctor and his own body were telling him.

“They’re dead?” he said.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I know this isn’t a consolation, but it was probably quick. They were brought to us but in truth they died at the scene. There was nothing we could do.”

“The, erm, the boy. Their boy. They have a son. Is he? Was it all of them?”

“The child was in the car with them, but he was, erm, it was remarkable really. He has a broken arm but otherwise not a scratch.”

“He survived?”

“Yes, he’s here. He’s being treated and we’ll be keeping him overnight at the very least.”

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, I’m here to take you to him. There’s paperwork and things unfortunately, I know that’s not what you want to hear right now but time is of the essence.”

“Paperwork?” said Kane, following Doctor Bhatia out of the room and down another long corridor.

“Yes. Someone will explain it to you.”

“Okay,” said Kane, bewildered and feeling as though he’d entered a maze and he was lost and didn’t know how to get out. His brain was foggy, incapable of thinking anything except Sinclair was dead. His friend, his partner in crime, the only person he’d ever truly loved, was gone.

They walked in silence, went up in the elevator two floors and came out on a corridor that looked exactly the same as the previous one. At the end was a ward with colourful pictures on the walls. Doctor Bhatia took Kane to a private room at the end, opened the door. Inside was a bed and on that bed was Nathan, hooked up to machines, his tiny arm plastered from wrist to shoulder. Fuck! He was asleep, which was a small mercy.

A woman was sitting in a chair next to the bed. Kane registered long brown hair tied in a braid, and a blue coat. She stood as he approached.

“I’m Doctor Abby Griffin,” she said, holding out her hand. Kane shook it limply.

“Marcus Kane. Are you his doctor?” He moved to the other side of the bed from the woman, touched Nathan’s uninjured arm gently.

“No, Doctor Bhatia is his consultant. I am a paediatrician also, but I specialise in child psychology.”

“Right,” said Kane, barely listening. Nathan looked so like his father Kane felt like he was being stabbed in the heart over and over again with no respite. He took his hand, stroked his tiny fingers.

“Are you okay to speak to Mr Kane, Doctor Griffin? I have another patient to attend,” said Doctor Bhatia.

“Don’t you want to give him your diagnosis?”

“You can do that.”

Kane heard Doctor Griffin sigh and click her tongue. “Consultants,” she whispered to herself. She gave him a sympathetic smile, then picked up a set of notes, scanning them quickly.

“Okay, so first of all, Nathan is fine. It’s a proximal radius fracture, so that’s the long bone here that extends from the wrist to the elbow.” She showed him the area on her own arm. “It’s non-displaced, which is good. He hasn’t needed surgery. He probably instinctively put out his hand to protect himself, something like that, and, erm, well clearly he came into contact with something, part of the car, I don’t know.”

“Is he in pain?”

“Some. He’s had a dose of Tylenol which is why he’s sleeping at the moment. The pain should reduce over the next few days.”

“Poor little guy,” said Kane.

“Yes. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks.”

“Doctor Bhatia really should have gone over this with you but they’re always so short-handed in this hospital and I’m here, and I’m happy to do it. I can answer any questions you have, but the main thing we need to do is get the paperwork sorted out.”

“What paperwork?” This was the second time someone had mentioned paperwork, but Kane couldn’t think what it would have to do with him.

“As Nathan’s legal guardian you need to sign some release forms and there’s something from the insurance company. These are just preliminary to make sure Nathan gets the proper treatment he needs, but—”

The woman was talking quickly, and Kane could barely follow what she was saying. “Legal guardian? What do you mean?”

Her smile faltered and she regarded him quizzically. “You are Marcus Kane, 521b 402 Kent Avenue, Brooklyn?”

“Yes.”

“According to this paper here you’re Nathan’s legal guardian following the death of his parents. Those were their wishes. You do know that, right?”

“Erm, there was something when he was born, yes, I agreed, because there isn’t anyone else, erm, but... I... I never thought...” He looked at Nathan. He was in charge of him? This tiny life was in his hands? He couldn’t do this, couldn’t make decisions for him. That was the job of a father. He was no father. He felt a hand on his arm, stroking it gently. He raised his heavy head and saw the doctor was looking at him with kind eyes.

“No grandparents?”

“Not on either side.”

“It will be alright,” she said.

“I’m not a father,” was all he could say in reply.

“Why don’t you sit down; you’ve had a big shock.”

Kane was barely conscious of moving but somehow he found himself ensconced in the chair the doctor had vacated. She handed him a glass of water and he took a sip.

“The most important thing right now is this little guy, yeah?”

Kane nodded.

“Okay that’s good. Have some time to yourself. I’ll be back in a short while.”

The doctor left and Kane was alone with Nathan. The machines hummed, becoming a background music to his thoughts as he looked at the child and tried to make sense of what had happened. Four hours ago he was joking with Sinclair about donuts and now he and Emma were gone, and their son was orphaned. It still didn’t seem real but clearly it was because the boy was here, and he was alone and the people who loved him and cared for him were never going to be able to do that again. The truth crystallised in his mind. Nathan had no one and that was unacceptable. Legal guardian or not the boy was a part of his friend and therefore a part of Kane. He had to do this.

\---

Abby Griffin returned from the admin office with the paperwork needed to admit Nathan Sinclair. This wasn’t her primary role at the Hospital Centre but as a public service it was underfunded, understaffed and short of everything. Doctor Bhatia in particular was both extremely busy and extremely lazy as she’d come to realise over her six-month tenure here. If he could hand things off to someone else, he would. The admissions staff where overwhelmed so she’d agreed to take control of the Sinclair case. Besides, this was an unusual situation as there were no parents, only a man who had suddenly been thrust into the role of father which had clearly been a shock. A light touch was needed here, which Doctor Bhatia was never going to give.

She stood at the window to Nathan’s room, taking in the situation. The man, Marcus Kane, seemed to have recovered some of his equilibrium and was holding the child’s hand, stroking it gently. He seemed to have a genuine affection for Nathan which was positive. She made some quick notes on her interactions so far with him. If the guardianship was challenged by anyone in the Sinclair family she would be a crucial witness.

She opened the door gently, went inside. Mr Kane looked around, seemed relieved to see it was her, gave her a brief thin-lipped smile.

“Doctor... sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Doctor Griffin, but you can call me Abby. Don’t worry about forgetting, it’s natural under the circumstances.”

He nodded, rubbed an old scar on his thin bottom lip as he looked at her. He had a striking face, the main features being his long nose that veered slightly to one side and his eyes which were such a deep brown the pupils were barely defined. They were boring into her now, examining, weighing up her suitability perhaps. She held his gaze, wondering what exactly he was seeing in her. Whatever it was she must have passed because he nodded again then gestured to a chair. Abby moved it closer to him, took a seat.

“I’m afraid there’s a lot of paperwork, Mr Kane, but we need to do it so Nathan can be admitted overnight.”

“It’s fine, and erm, it’s Marcus.”

“Okay, Marcus. Let’s start with the Financial Agreement Form and then that’s out of the way. What’s Nathan’s full name?”

“Erm, Nathan Marcus Sinclair.”

“He has your name?”

“His father and I are best friends. We’ve known each other since we were five.”

He was talking in the present tense about his friend, which told Abby he hadn’t accepted what had happened yet. They must have had a close relationship for the child to have his name. Her heart went out to him. He’d lost his friend, and all of this had been thrust upon him.

“It’s so lovely to have such a long-term friendship like that. Rare these days.”

“We work together as well.”

He gave Abby a half smile and she sensed it was feeling good to talk to her. That was okay, it was what she was here for after all, well she was here for the children’s mental health, but that often involved the parents as well.

“What do you do?”

“We were in the NYPD but now we’re private detectives. I have my own agency.”

“Wow, that’s a cool job. You’re like Philip Marlowe.”

“It’s not as glamorous as you think. Last night we were sitting in a parking lot where we’re usually entertained by a prostitute, not literally entertained, she’s there with her clients. Sinclair calls her the dumpster queen.”

He laughed, and then it turned into a large sob. Abby put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him and he grabbed it, his fingers curling tightly around hers. He cried soundlessly, his shoulders heaving. Without thinking, she pulled him towards her, and he buried his face in her neck, his tears dampening her skin. She put her hands on his back and his arms crept around her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered as a strangled cry erupted from him.

They stayed in their awkward hug for a moment and then he pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s your loss too.”

“It’s nothing compared to him,” he said, turning his attention back to Nathan.

Abby thought it was greater than Nathan’s loss in many ways because he was young and he wouldn’t have the memories that Marcus had. She didn’t say anything to him though.

“Do you want to get back to the forms?”

“Yes,” he said, looking relieved.

“Nathan’s date of birth?”

Marcus stared at her. “I don’t know! Erm, it’s June I think, yeah June, around the middle, eighteenth, nineteenth, I’m not sure. I didn’t pay attention. I haven’t paid enough attention!” He looked stricken at the thought.

“I think that’s pretty normal. It’s okay.”

“I don’t even know how old he is! He’s two or three, I don’t know!”

He was getting distressed, was angry with himself. Abby needed to calm him down.

“Marcus, it’s fine that you don’t know these things. I can find them out other ways, there are—”

“No, wait, he’s three. Yes, about three months ago. I was invited to a birthday party but I was working, I couldn’t go. Sinclair said it was fine, he was three, he wouldn’t remember who was there. He was only throwing the party because Emma wanted it.” He looked down at Nathan, pursed his lips, a deep line appearing between his brows as he frowned. “I wasn’t working. I just didn’t want to go to a kid’s party.”

“Marcus—”

“Don’t say it’s normal. He’s my godson. I should have gone.”

“Okay, I won’t say that. I can finish the rest of this form myself. Read it over and sign and date it at the bottom.”

She handed him the paperwork and he read it before signing.

“I don’t know what his insurance situation is.”

“We already know he’s covered. Your friend was very thorough. If you trust me to complete the rest of these on your behalf you can sign them and I’ll get the information I need from the admissions office.”

“That’s fine.”

He signed everything then handed it back to her. Abby was starting to get up when he looked quizzically at her.

“Did you say you were a child psychologist earlier?”

“I did, yes.”

“Then why are you here? Not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, you’ve been very kind.”

“Not at all. I’m running a funded program based here and at Queen’s Hospital Centre looking at the benefits of giving immediate psychological help to young patients after trauma.”

“You think Nathan will be traumatised?”

“I don’t know yet how he will react, but the indications are that he was awake during the crash and so it’s likely that he will have experienced some trauma, yes.”

“So you’d want to what, interview him or something? What would this involve?”

“I would enrol him in my program if you give your consent, and I will speak to him at an appropriate time after he wakes, and thereafter I would meet with him, and you as his guardian, at regular intervals. I will identify his needs and develop the right approach and treatment for him. A full commitment from you would be ideal as it works best if the parent is on board and willing to work with me, but if that’s not possible there’s still a lot of benefit to Nathan from attending some sessions with me.”

“I would, erm, I don’t know what is going to happen next. I don’t... I haven’t thought... but yes, anything that helps him I’m happy to support.”

“That’s great, that’s a good decision, thank you. I’ll give you some time alone and I’ll return in a while with the paperwork. Sorry to give you more to do.”

“It’s fine.”

“If you go home or whatever and you’re not here then here’s my card. Ring me and we’ll schedule something.”

She handed him her business card and he took it, read it, then put it in his pocket.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay. I’ll be back.” She headed to the door, had one hand on it when he spoke again.

“Erm, Abby. Thank you. You know for...” He made a vague gesture with his hand and she smiled warmly at him.

“You’re welcome. Any time.”

With that she left. She took a deep breath when she was on the other side of the door. Her job placed her in sad and difficult situations all the time, but that had been particularly intense. Marcus was clearly a competent, intelligent man, a detective no less, but he’d seemed like a lost boy in there, bewildered and all at sea. It must be a massive shock to find yourself suddenly a father, and although he seemed kind, he wasn’t especially paternal she thought. She doubted being a dad had been high on his to do list. Of course he might be married and have kids of his own, she hadn’t asked him that. She didn’t think so, though. He was probably going to need more help than Nathan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane gets an update about the accident, and faces a difficult conversation with Nathan with the help of Abby

Half an hour after the doctor left, the door opened again and Kane turned, expecting it to be Abby returning with the extra paperwork but it was Captain Miller from their old precinct, who had hired them for the surveillance work. Kane stood as he entered.

“Kane,” he said, holding out his hand for Kane to shake.

“Hello, Sir. Thank you for coming.”

“Terrible, terrible news. Sinclair was a good man, one of the best.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“This is his son, yes?” he said, looking at Nathan.

“Yes, he’s fine according to the doctors. A broken arm but no other physical injuries.

“That’s a small mercy.”

“Do we know what happened, Sir? I haven’t been told anything about the accident. I’ve been caught up with hospital administration since I got here.”

“Our enquiries so far show that they’d spent the afternoon in Prospect Park. Nothing to suggest they didn’t have a good time. Sinclair spoke to one of our officers in the park, chatting about family things. He told the officer they’d done the nature trail and were going to the zoo. He showed no signs of distress or that anything was wrong. They were going for pizza at Gino’s and that’s where we think they were heading when the crash occurred.”

That was so like Sinclair to be chatting to a fellow officer even on his day off. It hurt Kane physically to hear about his last moments, like being shot again only this time there didn’t seem to be an end to the pain. It was good that he was happy he supposed, but that just made it all worse. To go from a fun day to this was unfathomable.

“Was there another car involved? What happened?”

“It was a single vehicle incident initially. A witness said Sinclair seemed to pick up speed and veered off the road. He crashed into a tree at the junction of Crown and Washington and then bounced back into traffic where they were hit by another vehicle. The front of the car took the impact both times. We’re looking at CCTV along the route but according to the witnesses there was nothing to indicate he was being chased or any other reason for the crash.”

“It must have been something to do with the vehicle then, a malfunction. Sinclair was a careful driver, especially with Nathan, he would never drive in a dangerous manner.”

“I’ve had the car towed to a facility I have confidence in so it can be thoroughly examined.”

Kane’s heart sank into his stomach at this comment. “Why? Do you think there’s a possibility of a criminal element to this?”

"No, no, but given what we’re working on I wanted to be prudent that’s all. No need to worry, Kane.”

Captain Miller gave Kane what he guessed was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but Kane felt anything but comforted. If the case they were working on was responsible for Sinclair’s death he would never forgive himself.

“I’m probably going to be here for a couple of days, Sir. I’m the legal guardian for Nathan so I’m responsible for him I guess, but I’d like to do anything I can to—”

“Take all the time you need. I got your report on your surveillance, that was great work. We know Cadogan is using the motor inn and that there are underage girls in the vicinity at the same time. That will suffice for now. I don’t want you to think about this anymore. Concentrate on what you have to do here.”

“You’ll tell me the minute you know anything more about the crash, though?”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate you coming to see me and Nathan.”

Kane resumed his seat when Miller left. It had to be mechanical failure. Nothing else made any sense. He thought over the last few days, tried to think of anything unusual, something he might have dismissed as nothing – a car following them, or someone appearing too interested – but nothing came to mind. Suddenly the text Sinclair had sent popped into his mind. He took out his phone, looked at it.

_Had a minor breakthrough with Operation Dumpster. Interesting rather than explosive so don’t get excited. I’ll tell you tomorrow._

What was his minor breakthrough? He’d never be able to tell Kane in person now, but Sinclair was meticulous and wrote everything down. If he’d had a chance, he’d have made a note. Maybe it was amongst his possessions, or at home.

He went to the door, opened it, meaning to find someone he could ask about Sinclair’s things. Abby was on the other side of it and they nearly came nose to nose, or rather his chin to her forehead because she was at least half a foot shorter than him.

“Oh, hey!” she said.

“Hi, sorry.” Kane stepped back.

“No, it’s fine. Were you going somewhere?”

“I wanted to find out about Sinclair’s possessions, and also if I can see him? I want to see him.”

“Give me a second and I’ll find that out for you.” She disappeared and ten minutes later returned.

“The police and the Medical Examiner are in possession of everything at the moment, but you’ll be contacted once that process is over, probably tomorrow at the earliest. As next of kin they will be released to you and you will be able to make the necessary arrangements.”

“Thanks,” said Kane, too tired and numb to consider the responsibilities that were piling up on top of him.

“Come and sit down.” Abby led him back to the chair and resumed her position next to him. “Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

Kane shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“I would recommend drinking water at least. It will help you to function better.”

“Okay.”

She handed him a glass again and he took another, larger sip.

“That’s good.” She smiled and then she opened a file, took out yet more paperwork. “I know this is the last thing you want now, but if we get this completed I can start working with you and Nathan tomorrow, which would be the best thing for him.”

“It’s okay. I want to do this.” He took the papers, signed where she’d indicated without reading it.

“I’ll leave you copies so you can read it through properly when you’re feeling more able, but it’s all very straightforward and you can remove yourself and Nathan from the program at any time.”

Kane nodded. Abby left a file on the table next to Nathan’s bed.

“How am I going to tell him?” Kane murmured, taking Nathan’s hand gently so as not to wake him.

“It’s best to tell him the truth in a simple way without euphemisms. At his age he may well have some idea about death, but he doesn’t understand the concept of something lasting forever. So if you tell him that mommy and daddy have died, he might take that news at first, thinking that they’re gone for a short while but that they’ll be back again. Every child experiences grief differently and it will change day to day. I’ve put a couple of leaflets in the file and there’s a great website on child bereavement. Details of that are in there as well.”

Kane opened the file, stared at the leaflet. “I can’t do it. How can I change his life like this? How can I destroy him?” He looked up at Abby, tears in his eyes again, threatening to fall.

“Marcus, this has happened and it’s a fact. His life has already changed, but he has you. He’s not alone, and you can do this, and I know you’ll be okay. Don’t be afraid to show your grief. Seeing you express your feelings whether they’re sad ones or happy ones when you think of your memories is good for him. Be honest. Be real.”

“Will you be here?”

“Yes, I’ll come back first thing tomorrow, but this has to come from you. It’s best that he hears from someone he knows and trusts.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Get some rest if you can. He’ll probably be out the rest of the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She stood, rested her hand on Kane’s shoulder briefly and then left. In the silence that followed he didn’t think he’d ever felt so alone in his life. He wanted to run after her, tell her not to leave him here, not to make him do this, but she was right. This was something he had to face, and he had to do it properly. He owed that to Nathan, and to Sinclair and Emma.

He drank some more water, picked up the leaflet and started to read.

\---

Abby returned to the hospital the following day to find Marcus lying on the bed with his arm around Nathan. The child was awake and rubbing his eyes with his good hand.

“Morning,” she said, entering the room and shutting the door.

“Morning,” replied Marcus. “We’ve just woken up.”

“He slept all night?”

“No, he woke about two and was crying and saying his arm hurt. He thought I was his dad in his confusion. I didn’t have the heart to say anything then. A nurse came and gave him another small dose of Tylenol and he woke up a couple of minutes ago. I don’t think he’s fully compos mentis yet.”

“I’m the same first thing in the morning.” Abby smiled then sat in the chair at the side of the bed. “Hi, Nathan. I’m Abby and I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you feel better.”

Nathan looked at her with huge eyes that were green with a touch of gold. He and Marcus had a similar complexion and the same dark hair although Nathan’s was much curlier. Apart from the eyes, they could be father and son if you didn’t know otherwise.

“Where’s my mommy?”

Abby looked at Marcus who took a deep breath. He grasped Nathan’s hand and she could see that he was shaking.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly to him.

“Nate, do you remember what happened yesterday? Do you remember being in the car?” said Marcus.

“We went to the zoo. We saw monkeys.”

“You did yes, and then you got in the car, yeah, and you were going for pizza.”

“There was a bang.”

“That’s right, and that’s how you hurt your arm.”

Nathan looked at the plaster on his arm, rubbed it with his hand. “Hurts.”

“I know it does.” Marcus pressed a kiss to his head. “Well, mommy and daddy were hurt in the car as well but they were really sick and the doctors couldn’t help them.”

“Where are they?”

“They died, Nate. Do you know what that means?”

Nathan shook his head and then he sobbed and Marcus got tears in his eyes. Abby had to swallow a lump in her throat. Marcus looked at her helplessly. She stroked Nathan’s hair to make him look at her.

“Nate, when someone dies their body stops working and nothing can make it work again. They can’t talk to us or be with us anymore and we won’t be able to see them, but Marcus is here, and he will help you and look after you like mommy and daddy did.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be here with you, buddy. Mommy and daddy wanted me to help you in case they couldn’t, and I will.”

“I want my mommy!” Nathan cried.

“I know, Nate. I want your mommy and daddy too.” Marcus held the boy tightly to him and buried his face in his hair.

After a minute Nate pushed Marcus away and looked up at him. “Can I have cheeros now?”

Marcus looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “Yes, of course you can.”

“I’ll get him something,” said Abby, getting up.

Marcus followed her to the door. “Is that normal? He just suddenly wants his breakfast?”

“Yes. He can’t process a lot of information and his attention span is short. Usually in a child his age the reactions are non-verbal, so it will be his behaviour that shows you how he’s feeling. He won’t tell you, or he’s unlikely to. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to him about it when he asks, and also to talk about his mommy and daddy and share memories, things like that.”

“Okay.”

“You did really well. Brilliant.”

“I nearly lost it.”

“It’s okay to lose it, Marcus. That shows Nate that it’s okay for him to cry and feel sad as well. It’s healthy. I’ll get him some breakfast. Do you want anything?”

“Some coffee would be great.”

When Abby returned with coffees for her and Marcus and a bowl of Cheerios for Nathan, the boy was sitting up in bed, drawing in a small notebook, and Marcus was in the chair next to him.

“The nurse came in while you were gone. They’re going to examine Nate again around midday and we have to see a social worker, then all being well he’ll be discharged,” said Marcus as she handed him his coffee. “Thanks for this.”

Abby put the bowl of cereal on the tray and swung it in front of the boy. “That’s good news.”

“Yeah,” said Marcus sounding unconvinced. He looked at the bowl as though it was something foreign to him, then picked up the spoon and scooped up some of the cereal. He held it out to Nathan who gave him a confused look.

“Me,” he said, and he grabbed the spoon from Marcus, slopping milk and cereal all over the tray. He shoved what was left into his mouth and crunched happily.

“I guess he can feed himself!” said Marcus, surprised.

“I think you’ll find he’s quite independent in a lot of ways.”

“That’s good,” he said with a desperate laugh. He got a tissue, wiped up the spilled milk and cereal.

“Are you worried about him being discharged into your care?”

“What do you think? I don’t know anything about looking after kids.”

“Is there anyone to help you? Wife, husband, girlfriend or other friends?”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know how I’m going to cope in my apartment. I only have one bedroom and it’s a walk-up.”

Abby sat in the chair next to Marcus. “It would be best for Nathan if he was somewhere familiar, with his own things around him.”

“He’s never been to my place, but I could get his stuff I suppose.”

“What I mean is, it would be better if he was at home and you stayed there.”

A look of pure shock crossed his face. “Me move into Sinclair’s house?”

“Is that a problem for you?”

“I... I don’t know. Living in his house, that’s...” He swallowed hard. “Is it even allowed?”

“I don’t think anyone will object, but if they do I will recommend it. It’s the absolute best thing for Nathan’s mental health.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “My life’s never going to be the same again, is it?”

Abby shook her head and smiled ruefully. “No, I’m afraid not.” She stood. “I have other clients to visit, but I’ll come and see you before you go, and we can work out a schedule of sessions for the first couple of weeks.”

“Can you not just come and stay forever?”

He looked pleadingly at her and even though she knew he was joking it tugged on a heartstring nevertheless.

“You’re going to be okay, Marcus. I promise.”

“Thanks.” He reached out, caught her arm as she was leaving, her momentum causing his hand to slide down to hers. “You’ve been amazing.”

She gripped his hand then let go. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.”

She left him and hurried to see another client as she was already late. Marcus and Nate were on her mind all morning. She was confident he would cope, but the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy for either of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan is released from hospital. Kane realises he is woefully unprepared.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur for Kane. Nathan was examined and a nurse dressed him. The only clothes he had were the ones he’d been wearing on the day of the accident, so he was put into those. Thankfully they showed no signs that anything bad had happened.

A social worker came to assess Kane’s suitability to be an instant father, which mainly involved ticking a lot of boxes. He must have answered to her satisfaction because he was pronounced fit to take Nathan home with instructions about follow up visits with the social worker and check-ups at the hospital. He suspected that so long as he hadn’t shown any obvious serial killer traits, they were glad to hand Nathan over. One less kid in the system. He was glad about it, but it made him wonder how many kids were sent off to homes that weren’t good. Maybe his situation was rare. He hoped so.

He was getting ready to leave when he received a call to say he could go to the morgue and view the bodies as his formal identification was required. He found a nurse to sit with Nathan, made the descent in the elevator on weak legs. It wasn’t that dead bodies bothered him – he’d seen enough in his time on the force – but these were his friends, people he loved. In other circumstances he would think this was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do in his life, but there was a child upstairs whom he was expected to look after for the next eighteen years minimum. He laughed ironically at the thought of everything that lay ahead.

In the morgue they’d done him the courtesy of putting Sinclair and Emma in a private room and they were covered in white sheets. The ME and Officer Roberts were with him, and they stood respectfully in the corner of the room while Kane approached his two friends. There were obvious signs of the accident on both their faces. Cuts from glass or metal most likely, but they were still recognisable. He touched Sinclair’s hair, stroked his tight curls.

“You were an amazing friend,” he whispered. “I’ll look after Nate. I’ll do my best for him.” He kissed his cheek, then kissed Emma’s. “May we meet again,” he said.

“Can you confirm that this is Mr Jacapo Sinclair?” the ME said.

“I can.”

“And Mrs Emma Sinclair?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Kane left with Officer Roberts. In the elevator he handed him his business card. “Anything you find out, anything at all no matter how small, let me know.”

“It will be a thorough investigation, Sir, you can be assured of that. Mr and Mrs Sinclair were one of us.”

“I know. I appreciate that. Are there any possessions? When can I have them?”

“All items from the accident are part of the investigation for now. I’ll let you know as soon as they’re released.”

“Okay. You’ve been very professional. Thank you.” Kane was keen to keep the officer on side because he was launching his own investigation as soon as he was settled with Nathan, and the man could prove useful.

When he entered Nathan’s room to collect him, the doctor, Abby, was there reading something with him. He felt relief when he saw her. She’d become his touchstone he supposed, the anchor he’d needed in those early moments when he was all at sea. A sick feeling settled in his stomach at the thought of having to manage without her, which was crazy because she’d been in his life less than twenty-four hours, and he was a grown man. He had to cope on his own, starting now.

“Hi,” he said, giving her and Nathan a broad smile.

She looked up at him and smiled back. She had nice eyes he noticed, a warm brown like his favourite chocolate donut. A strong, intelligent face, good cheekbones. Definitely someone to depend upon in a time of need. He was glad she’d been here for him.

“Can I go home?” said Nathan, trying to clamber off the bed. Abby helped him down.

“Yes, we’re going home. Let me grab a few things.” Kane pulled together the files and paperwork Abby had left him. She handed him two books.

“I got these for Nate. The first is just a fun book but the second one you might want to start reading with him. It’s a good book for helping young children understand what death is and what it means.”

The book was called _The Fall of Freddie the Leaf_ and Kane got a lump in his throat from reading the synopsis.

“Thanks,” he croaked. He put the books into one of the folders and tucked them under his arm. “Okay, buddy, let’s go home.”

“I’ll come downstairs with you,” said Abby.

Kane took Nathan’s hand and Abby opened the door for them. They ambled along the corridor, Nathan gripping tightly to Kane.

“Is mommy at home?” said Nathan as they rode the elevator.

“No, Nate, but I will be with you.”

“What about daddy?”

“Mommy and daddy died remember, and we can’t see them, but we’ll talk about them if you want. I can tell you lots of funny things your daddy does, erm, did.”

“Okay,” he said, looking downcast.

“You’re safe with Marcus, Nate,” said Abby.

Outside the hospital and Kane couldn’t remember where he’d dumped his car. He stood and looked around.

“So, I thought I’d visit tomorrow if that’s okay. I’ll come to the house so that Nate can stay in his comfort zone,” Abby was saying.

“Right, yes, that’s fine.”

“Around two?”

“Yes.”

“How are you going to get home?”

“I have my car somewhere; I just can’t remember where right now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh what?” said Kane frowning at Abby.

“Two things. Nate may exhibit a response to being in the car, a memory of the accident.”

“Oh, I never thought about that.”

“He might not. We don’t know yet what’s affected him, or he might have a delayed reaction.”

“I can’t not take him in the car. It’s impossible.”

“I know. I’ll monitor him as you do it.”

“Oh, that would be great,” said Kane, relieved.

“The second thing is that you’ll need a seat for him. I’m guessing you don’t have one?”

“A seat?” said Kane, confused. “The car has seats. It has four.”

A smile crept onto Abby’s face which she looked as though she was trying to suppress. “Children under the age of eight have to have a special seat, and it’s quite specific for someone Nate’s age.”

“Shit, I don’t have one,” said Kane, forgetting Nathan was there as he swore.

“There’s a store next to the hospital. You’ll need a car seat and probably a stroller as I’m guessing Nate’s is part of the accident investigation.”

“Oh, Jeez! How am I supposed to know all this? What kind do I get?”

“You don’t need anything expensive and fancy, just something that will keep him safe and secure.”

“Okay.” He stood looking at Abby, tempted to ask her to help him. He suspected she would because she was kind, but he was on his own now with Nathan and he had to start somewhere. “Shall I call you when we’re done so you can be here?”

She nodded and he thought she seemed pleased that he’d made this decision. “Yes. I’ll be here.”

“Okay, Nate. We have to go shopping!”

“Can I have a toy? I want a finty blaster.”

“What the hel... what’s that?”

Nathan pointed at Kane and made shooting noises.

“Ah. Let’s see what they’ve got.” He thought about his bank account and what little he had as they walked to the store. He hoped he had enough to cover the costs.

The store was vast and filled with strollers and car seats of infinite variety as well as a million other things. All said they were the best protection for your child and the prices made Kane’s eyes water. His beloved vintage Chevy Impala had cost less than some of these! Nathan tried to pull him towards the toy section, but Kane held tightly to him.

“In a minute, Nate. We have to get you some essentials first.”

“Toys!” he said pulling harder.

Kane didn’t want to get into a tug of war with him because he would undoubtedly lose, so he gave in. They went to the toy section which when Kane was a kid was a wall at the back of the store with sports stuff and Mr Potato Heads. The potato of many disguises was still here, but the section now was half the store and there were thousands of toys and games and a virtually life-sized car you had to peddle. How did anyone choose from all this?

Nathan didn’t need to choose because he knew exactly what he wanted. He dragged Kane to a section with Toy Story stuff and pointed to a gun, an Infinity Blaster which had multiple light and sound effects. Kane groaned, getting a clear image of what the rest of his day, no life, was going to be like from now on.

“What about this?” he said, holding up a female cowboy doll. He figured he could be gender progressive or whatever the term was.

“I want the finty,” said Nathan.

Kane picked it up. Twenty-five bucks for a bit of cheap plastic! Jesus Christ.

“Okay,” he said, holding his sigh inside. The kid deserved something fun.

Back at the section devoted to restraining children Kane stood and stared, bewildered at the choice available. Something safe and secure Abby had said, but that’s what they all promised. A young man came up to him, looking barely out of diapers himself. Greasy-haired, pale and spotty-faced with sparkling blue eyes. Probably hated himself right now but would be bowling the girls over soon.

“Can I help you, Sir?” he said.

“I need a car seat and a stroller for a three-year-old.”

“You’ve come to the right place.”

“I can see that,” said Kane, gesturing sarcastically around him. “My question is, what’s best?”

“This is the most expensive one.” The boy pointed to something that wouldn’t be out of place in the space shuttle. It had about fourteen different ways of existing, like a Transformer. Kane wouldn’t even know where to start with that even if he could afford it.

“I don’t want expensive. What’s cheap but good?”

“I guess this one,” he said, showing Kane something that he could probably afford but it had a horrible blue and yellow flower design. He couldn’t imagine himself pushing that.

“It has to be black,” he said.

“This is black and cheap.”

Kane fingered the one the boy showed him. It looked okay. “Do you want to sit in this, Nate?” he said, putting the child in it before he could object. The seat sagged and the frame looked flimsy.

“Nope,” Kane said.

“I don’t know what you want, man,” said the young man, looking bored.

“Something I don’t have to skip a rent cheque to pay for and won’t kill my boy. What about this?”

He pulled forward one that looked robust. It was black with a silver trim and had three wheels which allegedly were perfect for jogging with. He could get fit while out with Nate and have something to hold onto when his leg hurt. This could be perfect! He checked out the sales tag. Two hundred dollars plus tax, fuck! It was cool, though, as far as these things went, had sleek lines and a lot of potential.

“This is the one,” he said to the assistant.

“That’s not a cheap one, you said cheap.”

“But what price a child’s safety?” said Kane, smugly.

The young man shrugged, not caring. The car seats were equally as costly, but as they all looked like the control seat of the Starship Enterprise he settled on a black one the same price as the stroller. The sales assistant took both to the counter. On the way they passed a display of LEGO and Kane was hit by a wave of nostalgia. He’d loved building this as a boy. He picked up a police car, added it to the other items. The whole trip didn’t give him change from five hundred dollars and he had to shut his mind to the thought of it all. Nate needed it, and that was that.

He forced the young sales assistant to come to the parking lot with him as he couldn’t carry everything even with Nathan happily ensconced in his new stroller. He found his car with a parking ticket stuck to the window and took it in his stride because what was a few more dollars?

He called Abby, told her where he was and while he waited, he took the seat out of its packaging, looked at the instructions. Kane liked to think of himself as a practical person but in reality he was more cerebral. His brain didn’t help him here, though, because the instructions were incomprehensible.

The sales assistant deserted him, and he struggled for what felt like ages to fit the seat correctly. There were no shortcuts with this no matter how much he wanted to throw the thing in any old way. He’d just fixed it to his satisfaction when Abby arrived.

“That’s an amazing stroller, Nate,” she said. She looked at Kane amused. “I thought I said nothing fancy.”

“That’s not fancy, believe me! It will be good for us both I think.”

“It looks great. It suits you both.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, why don’t you put him in the car, tell him what you’re going to do in advance.”

Kane nodded. “Okay, Nate, how would you like to be a Starfleet Captain?”

Nathan looked at him confused.

“I guess he’s not a Star Trek fan,” said Abby.

“Not yet,” said Kane. “You wanna get in the car seat, buddy?”

Nathan seemed reluctant at first to be placed in the car seat, holding onto the side of his stroller with his good hand when Kane tried to take him out.

“It might just be all the new things,” said Abby.

“Yeah. Nate, I could use some help driving home. Do you think you could help me?”

“I guess.”

“That’s great, but you’ll have to get in the seat otherwise you won’t be able to see where we’re going. We might end up on the moon!”

“The moon! Awesome!”

He let go of the stroller and Kane picked him up and strapped him in. He shut the door then looked at Abby.

“Well done,” she said.

“One hurdle I suppose.”

“Just keep an eye on him. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, thanks for everything you’ve done. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

“No problem. Nice car, by the way.”

“Yeah, you like it?”

“I love old cars.”

“What do you have?”

“You’ll see tomorrow.”

“I guess I will.”

Abby left and Kane smiled as he wrestled with the stroller and somehow managed to fold it up and put it in the trunk with the toys. He got into the car and turned to Nathan.

“Let’s boldly go home, Captain Sinclair,” he said.

“You’re silly,” said Nathan.

“I am. You’re right. That’s just what your daddy used to say.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane is alone with Nathan for the first time, with mixed results.

It was the strangest feeling pulling up outside Sinclair’s condo in Glen Oaks, knowing his friend wouldn’t be there. Kane sat in the car for a moment staring at the red bricked complex. It wasn’t a place he would choose to live, too far away from the hub of the city, and all the houses and complexes were cookie cutters of each other. There was a lot of greenery, though, lawns and trees, wide sidewalks and traffic control measures on the streets. Kids could play here safely, which was why Sinclair and Emma had chosen it.

“Wait there, Nate,” he said, not sure whether the boy was capable of unfastening himself and jumping out.

He went to the trunk, got the stroller and opened it, put the toys on the seat together with the folders. He left it on the sidewalk while he got Nathan out of the car seat and then he held onto him with one hand and pushed the stroller with the other. Sinclair’s condo was on the upper floor which presented the first problem. He took Nathan up first, sat him on the sofa then returned for the stroller, lugging it up the narrow flight. He was grateful now that he wasn’t in his own apartment. Dragging this up and down five flights every day might make him super fit but would probably destroy his leg.

The living room was tiny but neat. There was one long grey sofa with a footrest at one end that was Sinclair’s favourite place to stretch out, and a black cabinet with photos arranged on top and a TV mounted above. In one corner was a toy chest and there were shelves on the wall above it with assorted crap that Emma probably liked. Kane leant the stroller against the wall in the opposite corner next to the window. A small table sat between the sofa and an armchair and he put the folders on top of that.

A patch of window-shaped light fell onto the grey carpet and Kane looked out of the window, seeing trees and other buildings all exactly the same. It was peaceful he had to admit, but too quiet for him. He was used to horns and sirens and people.

“What do you want to do?” he said to Nathan.

“I want my finty,” the boy said, pointing at the package Kane had thrown onto the sofa.

“Okay, let’s get it.”

He had to search in the kitchen drawers for something to cut the package open as it was sealed tighter than Kane’s wallet usually was. Nathan jumped up and down by his side with excitement. The noise from the toy was as horrendous as he’d figured it would be, but he let Nathan chase him around the room and pretended to get shot over and over, pushing away memories of that day in the bodega. He lay on the floor eventually while Nathan stood above him and annihilated him. He didn’t care, was glad of the rest.

“I’m hungry,” Nathan said when he’d got bored of killing Kane.

Kane looked at his watch. Shit! It was gone two and the kid had only eaten a bowl of Cheerios. The last thing Kane had eaten was his pizza bagel at lunchtime yesterday, but he still didn’t think he could stomach anything.

“What do you eat?” he said as he went into the tiny kitchen followed by Nathan.

“Mommy makes it.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see.” Kane opened the fridge, rummaged inside. It was well stocked compared to Kane’s fridge. There was some deli ham and a jar of pickles. Cheese, eggs, fresh pasta, veggies, some green stuff in a packet, peanut butter, orange juice, all healthy stuff Kane’s body hadn’t seen in a long time.

“How about a PB&J?” he said, pulling out the peanut butter.

“Yeah, yummy,” said Nathan.

Kane found the jelly and some bread and made the boy a sandwich. He made himself one as well because he figured he would need his strength to get through the rest of the day even though he didn’t physically want to eat.

They sat on the sofa and Kane switched on the TV. It was automatically set to a cartoon channel and Nathan seemed happy watching it. Kane nibbled at his sandwich, forcing it down. He picked up the folder Abby had given him, read through the leaflets again. She’d scrawled some websites on the back of them, but he didn’t have his laptop with him to check. He didn’t have anything other than his phone and keys and the clothes he was wearing. He should go home and pick up some things, but he didn’t have the energy. He’d do it tomorrow before their appointment with Abby.

“I need peepee,” Nathan declared when he’d finished his sandwich.

“Okay,” said Kane. He looked at the boy. He had no idea what to do. Did he go in the pants he’d seen the nurse put on him that morning or did he use the toilet?

Nathan got off the sofa, headed to the bathroom and Kane followed.

“Do you have a special thing? What do you do?”

“There,” he said, pointing at the toilet and looking at Kane like he was the biggest idiot he’d ever seen. He crossed his legs, put his hands between them.

“Okay.” Kane pulled down Nathan’s pants and underpants and turned him so he was facing the toilet. He was too short to be able to aim into it, so he lifted him and pointed him at the bowl. Nathan struggled in his arms and pee came out and went everywhere.

“Oh, crap!” said Kane, unsure as to what had gone wrong. Nathan started crying and Kane felt like a massive failure. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He hugged him, then carried him to his bedroom, pants still around his ankles.

He laid him on the bed and took off his shoes, pants and underwear. There was a white chest of drawers in the room and he rummaged in it, finding a packet of something called Huggies pullups in one drawer and some shorts in another. Nathan had buried his face in the bed and was sobbing. There were wet wipes in a basket on top of the drawers and he took a handful, cleaned the boy up. He pulled on a pair of Huggies and the shorts and then he sat on the bed and hauled Nathan into his arms.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He stroked his curls, kissed his soft hair and a few tears of his own dampened his head. He shouldn’t be doing this. Nathan deserved his parents here, people who knew how to look after him. How were they going to survive when he couldn’t even help him pee properly? 

“I want mommy. I want mommy!”

“I know, I know.”

When they’d both recovered from their upset, they returned to the living room. Nathan sat in front of his toy chest and pulled out everything he owned. Kane cleaned the mess in the bathroom then sat on the sofa and used his phone to google how to help a boy use the toilet. He was supposed to sit on it at this age. God, why hadn’t he realised that? Well, he knew now. He read everything he could find on the toilet habits of three-year-olds and although he wasn’t relishing the prospect of wiping dirty butts every day, he at least felt better prepared. He just hoped he hadn’t scarred Nathan for life in terms of his bathroom habits.

At six o’clock he figured he’d better make some dinner. He was a hopeless cook, but he found a can of spaghetti hoops in the cupboard and he heated that and gave it to Nathan on a slice of toasted bread. It wasn’t very healthy but when he had his laptop he’d look up some simple recipes, see what to do with the carrots and whatever the green stuff was. They sat at a small table in the corner of the kitchen. Kane nursed a coffee while he watched Nathan eat. He’d managed to coax out of him that he liked orange juice to drink which had to be served in his favourite cup which had a spout and a picture of Buzz from Toy Story on the side.

He seemed happier than he was after the toilet incident. Kane couldn’t say the same. The enormity of what he was facing had hit him. Parents had nine months to prepare for a baby arriving and by the time the kid was Nathan’s age they were old hands. Kane had been a father twenty-four hours and he had never felt more stupid or clueless in his life. You’re a detective, he told himself while he sipped his coffee. Treat this as a case. Do your research, talk to other people, uncover the secret of how to raise a child.

After dinner they sat on the sofa watching a DVD of Toy Story. Kane couldn’t bring himself to sit in Sinclair’s seat so they sat at the other end. Halfway through Kane noticed Nathan was fidgeting and holding his crotch. He realised he wanted to pee but didn’t want to say and his heart nearly broke.

“Do you need to go for a pee?” he said.

Nathan shook his head.

“What if you sit on the toilet this time? Will that be better?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go.”

This time was better and included poop, so Kane wiped his first butt that wasn’t his own and felt like another hurdle had been passed. This was what child rearing was he supposed. A lot of learning, and a lot of mess.

Nathan was quiet but seemed contented enough watching TV with Kane. He didn’t ask to go to bed and Kane wasn’t sure what time he was supposed to go. Nine o’clock he figured was probably reasonable. He felt tired himself suddenly, as though a switch inside him had been turned off.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see the clock on the cabinet said ten. He must have drifted off. The TV was paused at the end of the DVD. There was a heavy weight on his legs and when he looked down Nathan was asleep, his plastered arm flung across Kane’s knee. He stroked his hair gently, felt a surge of something in his veins. Love, he supposed.

He eased the boy into his arms and carried him to the bedroom. He didn’t want to wake him by undressing him so he put him in the bed in his shorts and t-shirt. Nathan mumbled something but didn’t wake properly. Kane kissed his cheek.

“Night, Nate,” he whispered.

He went into the living room, wondering what to do next. He should sleep if he could, though it was early for him. He went into the other bedroom, turned on the light. Sinclair’s bed, with its dark wooden frame and blue and white patterned duvet. There was a cushion on it that said Home. A basket in the corner had laundry flowing out of it. Sinclair’s reading glasses were on his bedside table sat on top of a book called _The Forensics of Crime_. Kane could see him sitting in the bed, reading. He wore blue old man pyjamas Kane knew from times he’d stayed over while drunk. They were probably under the pillow.

Fucking fuck! A soundless sob escaped him, hurting his chest. Here was a life just left, abandoned, though not willingly. They’d walked out mid scene and Kane had walked in, like an unconvincing body swap replacement in a shitty TV show. He had to pick up the pieces of this life somehow, play the roles left to him of mother and father, teacher, homemaker, breadwinner.

He couldn’t sleep here, not in Sinclair’s bed. It was his and Emma’s, their sanctuary, their home. He went to the chest of drawers, opened the bottom drawer figuring he’d find what he needed in the place used the least and he was right. He pulled out a sheet and a blanket, took them into the living room. He tucked the sheet around the sofa cushions then he took off his shoes and his pants and lay down, covering himself with the blanket.

He lay awake, the silence and the darkness unnerving. It was never dark where he lived in Williamsburg, too many lights from the shipyard and Manhattan across the river. Normally when he couldn’t sleep he got up and worked, but he didn’t have his files with him nor did he have the energy. He was in that awful zone he knew so well – too tired to do anything, not tired enough to sleep. Memories of Emma and Sinclair started flicking through his mind like an old movie reel on loop. He couldn’t switch it off, but it was too painful to watch. He turned on the TV in the hope that it would block out the other view. Planet of the Apes was on, the original, and the best in his opinion. He lay on his side, staring at the screen.

Kane was woken by someone shaking him and he opened his eyes to see Nathan staring at him, a worried look on his face.

“You okay, Nate?” he said, throwing off the blanket and sitting up. His head felt heavy and groggy from lack of sleep. He could see from the clock behind Nathan that it was only six o’clock.

“I had naccident,” Nathan said, and Kane saw that his shorts were darker around his crotch.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he said, getting up and taking Nathan to the bathroom.

He stripped off his clothes and stood him in the bath, using the shower head to hose him down without getting his plaster wet. When he was dry, they went into the bedroom and he dressed him in black jeans and a red t-shirt.

“We’re seeing Doctor Abby later today so you have to look good,” he said. He ran a brush through his curls, smiling as they sprung back into the same position. “You know your daddy was very proud of his hair.”

“Was like mine?”

“Yes. Just like yours. He told me once it was your mommy’s favourite thing about him.”

“Mommy likes nanas,” he said randomly.

“Do you want a banana for breakfast?”

Nathan shrugged, then ran out of the room. Kane pulled back the bedsheets to straighten them and saw there was a small damp patch. Crap! Had he needed to go in the night but couldn’t wake Kane? Were you supposed to be available twenty-four seven? He stripped the sheets and sprayed the mattress with disinfectant before wiping it down. He opened the window to let some air in. He took the sheets into Sinclair’s room, piled them on top of the laundry basket. He’d deal with them later.

Nathan had Cheerios and half a banana for breakfast and Kane finished the rest of the fruit. He half wondered if his body would go into shock at the sudden arrival of vitamins.

After breakfast Kane bundled Nathan into his car and drove across Queens and Brooklyn to his apartment. The boy was happy enough to climb the stairs so he didn’t have to carry him for which he was grateful. He stuffed clothes and toiletries into a bag, packed his case files and anything else he thought might be useful. His laptop was still at the office so he’d have to go there next.

He decided to walk rather than drive and struggle to find a parking space, so he strapped Nathan into the stroller when he got downstairs.

“We’re going to see where daddy worked, would you like that?”

“Yes, is daddy there?” he said, looking hopeful.

“No, Nate, he’s not there, but you can sit in his chair if you want.”

Nathan chattered to his Woody doll while Kane pushed the stroller. It was a good choice, he thought, sturdy but light. It would be easy on his leg. He pushed it quickly through the streets, enjoying for a brief moment the warm sun on his head and the sounds of the city around him.

Two women who were also pushing strollers - fancy ones like the Transformer he’d seen – smiled at him as they passed. He turned in surprise and one of them was looking back at him, a tall willowy one with blonde hair. He entered the kosher supermarket with a spring in his step, decided to look around before heading upstairs.

“Mr Kane, what is this?” said Mrs Roseman, the owner, peering at Nathan over the deli counter. “Have you been a naughty boy?”

“I wish. No, this is Nathan, Mr Sinclair’s son.”

“Ah, and you are giving the daddy a day off, that’s nice.”

“Actually, erm, I have some bad news, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to tell you this, but Mr Sinclair was killed in a car accident. His wife too. I’m looking after Nathan permanently.”

Mrs Roseman put her hand to her face in shock. Kane felt bad having to break it to her, realised this was the first of many he would have to do.

“Oy! Baruch dayan ha-emet.” She came around the counter and enveloped Kane in a tight hug. “It is the truth that each journey comes to an end, but this is too soon for Mr Sinclair. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“He was a good man, very funny. Not like you who scurries up the stairs. Mr Sinclair would stop and talk.”

“He was the better man that’s for sure.”

“And this poor child all alone in the world. I will light candles for you all.”

“He’s not alone. Like I said he’s got me.”

“Poor bubbeleh,” she said, leaning into the stroller and ruffling Nathan’s hair. “You tell me if you want anything.”

Kane wasn’t sure if that offer was to Nathan or himself, but he thanked her nevertheless. He took the boy out of the stroller, set him down.

“His poor arm!” said Mrs Roseman.

“He’ll be fine. He was lucky. Is it okay if I leave the stroller here? I won’t be a moment.”

“Of course. You can leave the boy too if you want.”

“No, he wants to see his father’s office.”

In the office, and another stab of pain looking at Sinclair’s desk and empty chair. He supposed these days of firsts would be over soon, but in the meantime it felt like one agony after another. He sat Nathan in his dad’s chair, told him a few of the things they’d done together, not that there was much suitable for the ears of a child.

He packed up his and Sinclair’s laptops and chargers and rummaged through Sinclair’s desk looking for his notebooks, which he put into his laptop bag. Downstairs he took Nathan to the toilet and when they came back out Mrs Roseman gave a chocolate rugelach to Nathan and thrust a plastic carton into Kane’s hands.

“My matzoh ball soup. It’s Mr Roseman’s lunch but he can do without. It won’t hurt him.” She patted her stomach.

“That’s very good of you,” he said, his stomach rumbling at the thought of the soup.

“Next time you come here I’ll have something else.”

By the time Kane got back to his car, Nathan’s face and hands were covered in the chocolate from the rugelach. He didn’t have any wipes with him so he used his handkerchief as best he could. He’d have to start lugging a bag of supplies everywhere he went like he’d seen Emma do.

He got Nathan into the car, tried not to cry when he saw him put his hand on the door leaving a chocolate smear on the pristine cream leather interior. It will come off, he told himself. He eased into the traffic on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway and hoped he’d have time to eat the soup before Abby arrived.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby has an unwelcome visitor then goes to see Marcus and Nathan at home.

Abby spent the morning at the Queen’s Hospital Centre seeing a couple of outpatients there. She decided to go home for lunch as it was only a ten-minute drive to Forest Hills, and that proved to be both fortuitous and a mistake. The good thing was that she wouldn’t have known her husband had been there if she hadn’t gone home, the mistake was not turning around the moment she saw his stupid silver Nissan Rogue in the driveway. She pulled up on the roadside, got out, marched into the house through the unlocked front door.

“What the hell, Jason!” she said as he looked up in surprise. He’d been rummaging through one of the drawers in the cabinet, the one where she kept her private documents, legal things. She’d hidden the key, but he must have found it.

“Calm down, Abby. I’m not a goddamn thief.”

“You’ve broken into my house and you’re rifling through my private things. That’s the definition of a thief.”

“You can’t break into your own house, and besides I used a key, for both things.” He brushed too-long strands of his dirty blonde fringe out of his eyes. His hair was getting shaggy and reached his shoulders. He was starting to look like an aging rock star, which was what he was, except he’d never been a star.

“It’s not your house anymore. You left, remember?”

Jason shut the cabinet drawer. “It’s still my house. I have a right to be here.”

“My inheritance bought this house, and you’ve contributed barely anything to it over the last five years.”

“That never bothered you when we were together.”

“Because we were partners. I supported you and I was glad to do it. Look how you’ve repaid me.”

Jason came towards her, the blue eyes she used to love sparking with an anger he’d manufactured on purpose to make her feel like shit, something he excelled at. “That’s typical you. You dole out your ‘support’ and your benevolence and we’re all supposed to be grateful. I always felt like I owed you something and I could never pay, was never good enough.”

“Bullshit! If you felt like that it’s on you. I never wanted you to feel like that. I loved you, I wanted you to succeed.”

“You can rewrite history to suit yourself if you want.”

“I don’t know why you say these things other than to put me down. We both know why you left me.”

He had the grace to at least look a tiny bit sheepish when she said that.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a father,” he said.

“I can’t help my biology.” Abby felt tears pricking her eyes and didn’t want to cry in front of him. She went to the draw he’d been looking through, opened it. Nothing obvious seemed to be missing. “What were you looking for?”

“My passport.”

She looked sharply at him. “You have your passport; you took it with you when you left.”

“Well I thought I did but I can’t find it, so I wondered if I’d just dreamt that I’d took it.”

“That makes no sense. I have a clear memory of you taking it.”

“You and your perfect memory! Never lost a thing in your life, eh? Always knows where everything is.”

“It’s called organisation and efficiency.”

“You ought to try living a little once in a while, Abby.”

“You’ve got a damned nerve coming here and lecturing me on how to live my life.” She wanted to yell at him that he’d taken her life, the one she’d thought she had, but she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. “I’d like you to leave now, and give me your keys.”

He walked backwards towards the door. “I’m keeping the keys,” he said, dangling them in front of her, and then he left. He was in his car reversing down the drive by the time she got outside. She stared after him, the tears she’d held inside falling. Goddamn him!

She went back into the house, locking the door behind her. She didn’t feel like eating her lunch now, or doing anything. She hated that he made her feel this way, that even though he’d left her and had turned out to be a complete and utter bastard, he still had the ability to turn her world upside down, to affect her mood, her plans, how her day was going to go.

At the kitchen table she sat with a glass of water in front of her and opened up her briefcase, took out the case file of Marcus Kane and Nathan Sinclair. She looked at the picture of the young, orphaned boy and his bewildered new carer she’d taken at the hospital. There were worse things that could happen to someone than what she was going through. She had to remember that.

\---

Abby was five minutes late getting to Glen Oaks thanks to Jason and her need to compose herself after he’d left. She hated being late, especially in the early days of a new client relationship. It was important to appear reliable and trustworthy. Usually she was early to meetings and spent the extra time sitting in her car checking her notes. She pulled up behind Marcus’s Chevy Impala. Damn, it was a good-looking car, the blue of a late summer sky. It was all sharp lines at the front, soft curves at the back and shone bright in the afternoon sun.

She got out of her car, headed over to it, was tempted to run her hands over the curves at its rear. The metalwork was in pristine condition, highly polished, reflecting the green of the verge. It was a sixties model, late one, she thought. The interior was cream and untarnished apart from a brown smear on the passenger door. The car seat he’d bought looked completely out of place, huge in the compact interior. It must have killed him having to install it.

She headed to the two-storey complex that housed his apartment, or rather his partner’s. The neighbourhood was good, the communal areas mown and neat. Shrubs and trees, a couple of benches. No litter or graffiti. A nice place to bring up a child. Marcus, she knew, lived in the heart of the city, on the East River, with the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn and Manhattan on his doorstep. A place like this was probably another shock to him.

He answered the door with a wan smile, and she followed him up the narrow stairs and into the apartment. It was compact and tidy, except for Nathan’s toys which were strewn across the floor.

“We were just tidying,” said Marcus, running a hand through his dark hair. He bent to pick up more toys, threw them into a chest in the corner of the room. Nathan was sitting on the floor next to the chest, his good hand delving in to pull out things Marcus had put in.

“Don’t take them out again, Nate. We’re making the place look nice for Doctor Abby.”

“Hi, Nate!” said Abby, smiling warmly at the boy when he looked up at her, surprise on his face because he’d been too engrossed in his toys to realise she’d arrived. He examined her briefly then returned to playing.

Abby looked around while she waited, noticed a sheet and a blanket stuffed between the sofa and the wall. There were pictures of what she presumed were Nathan’s parents on top of a cabinet and she picked one up, examined it. Nathan was clearly his father’s son, had the same curly hair and olive skin. The mother had short brown hair, darker than Abby’s, and those green eyes Nathan had inherited. They were grinning broadly, arms wrapped around each other. A couple very much in love. She sighed for a whole host of reasons.

“Okay, done,” said Marcus, standing up and stretching his back. He was still in the clothes he’d been wearing at the hospital. Nathan was in black pants and a red t-shirt and looked clean and tidy, not that she’d expected to find him dishevelled in any way, but it was part of her job to observe these things.

“Can I get you a drink? There’s a coffee machine and I think I saw some tea in the cupboard somewhere.”

“Coffee would be great, thank you, Marcus.” Abby followed him into the small kitchen at the rear of the apartment. Dishes had been washed and stacked neatly on the draining board.

“Something smells good in here!” she said, inhaling the warm aroma of spices. It made her empty stomach rumble.

“I can’t take credit for that. The owner of the store beneath our office gave me some soup and all I had to do was heat it up.”

She took note of his use of the term ‘our’, presumably meaning his and Sinclair’s. He still hadn’t accepted his partner’s death on a fundamental level, which wasn’t unusual. It had only been a couple of days.

“I hope you don’t mind me noticing you’re still in the same clothes as when I met you. Have you not had chance to get some?”

“Erm, yeah, I went this morning to my apartment, but I haven’t had chance since then to get changed. It’s hard, you know, with Nate. I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“I can understand that, but you need to take care of yourself as well, Marcus. I’d like to talk to Nate alone first anyway, so why don’t you grab a shower, get changed?”

He turned with a mug in hand, looked at her as though she’d bought him the world for Christmas. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s fine.”

“Okay. Thanks. Do you want milk in your coffee?”

“Just a splash.”

“Same as me.” He added the milk, handed Abby her mug, left his on the countertop. He poured orange juice into a Sippy cup for Nathan. They returned to the living room.

Marcus crouched next to Nathan, gave him the cup. “Doctor Abby wants to talk to you for a minute, are you okay with that? She’s a very nice lady, you remember her from the hospital?”

Nathan nodded, looked at Abby with his bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“What’s your favourite toy, Nate?” said Abby, putting her coffee mug on a shelf then easing herself onto the floor next to him.

“Buzz,” he said, rummaging in the box and coming out with the toy.

“What do you like about Buzz?”

Nathan pressed some buttons on the doll and it made a noise. He handed it to Abby so she could see for herself.

“Thank you,” she said. She looked up at Marcus who was hovering in the doorway. “We’ll be fine,” she said.

“Okay.” He picked up a bag that was next to the TV cabinet then disappeared behind a door. Abby heard the sound of the shower running. She turned her attention back to Nathan, who was looking around anxiously.

“Where Marcus?”

“He’s gone to have a shower and get dressed.”

“Is he coming back?”

“Yes, he’ll be back in a few minutes and I’ll be with you while we wait.”

Abby pressed some of the buttons on the Buzz doll and Nathan laughed at the sound of Buzz’s voice. He found Woody in the toy chest and they played together with the toys.

“Have you been having fun playing with Marcus, Nate?” she said.

Nate nodded. “I had choclat.”

“Did you? Mmm, I love chocolate. Is that your favourite food?”

“And nanas. Mommy likes nanas.”

“Are you missing mommy and daddy?”

He looked up at her with sadness in his wide, green eyes, making Abby’s heart swell. There was something about children at this age when they were almost without guile and they trusted you completely.

“When will they get better?”

“They won’t get better, Nate, they died.”

“I want mommy and daddy.”

“I know you do.” Abby got up, brought the photograph of the Sinclairs back to Nathan. “Daddy looks like he was a fun person. Did he make you laugh?”

“Yes.” Nathan took the photo, pressed a wet kiss to it.

“That’s a nice kiss for mommy and daddy.”

“Daddy kiss mommy a lot.”

“I bet he did. It’s nice to give kisses to people we love to let them know we care about them.”

Nathan discarded the photo, took Buzz from Abby and kissed him, then he looked up at her and grinned.

“You love Buzz, yeah?” she said, and he nodded. “What do you think about Marcus? Do you like him?”

He nodded again. “He silly.”

“Marcus is silly?”

“We’re gonna drive to moon.”

Abby was flummoxed for a moment then she remembered a conversation they’d had when Marcus was coaxing him into his car outside the hospital. “Aah, yes. Clever of you to remember that, Nate. Are you happy with Marcus here?”

A brief nod, and then he was chattering mostly nonsense with Woody and Buzz. Abby watched him play. His response to what he’d been through had been typical so far, but they hadn’t got to the difficult questions yet. She wanted Marcus here for that. He came into the room a minute later dressed in black jeans and a thin black sweater, his hair towel-dried and tousled. 

“Thanks for that,” he said, smiling at Abby.

“Feel human again?”

“As human as I ever was.” He grinned, then looked down at Nathan. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” said Nathan, not looking up from his toys.

“I’d like to have a brief chat together with Nate and then talk to you alone if that’s okay?” said Abby.

“Yes, of course, let me just grab my coffee.”

He sat on the sofa with a wriggling Nathan in his arms. Abby moved the armchair so it was closer to them and settled into it.

“Nate. Do you remember going to the zoo with mommy and daddy the other day?”

“Monkeys!” he said, making a monkey noise.

“Yes, monkeys! What else did you see?”

He screwed up his face while he thought. “More monkeys!”

Abby shared a smile with Marcus. “You liked the monkeys, yes?”

“Yes, they swing.” He flung his arm out to mimic the action, hitting Marcus on the side of the head with it.

“Oof!” he said.

“Poor Marcus,” Abby said. Nathan was unperturbed. Abby suppressed a smile so he wouldn’t think it was a good thing to do and keep hitting Marcus.

“Do you remember what happened after the zoo, Nate? When you were in the car?”

His body stiffened at her question, went completely still. Marcus stroked his hair, kissed his head.

“Were there any sounds?” said Abby, probing as gently as she could.

“Loud.”

“Yes.”

“Daddy said bad word.”

“Did he say anything else, Nate?” said Marcus.

“Mommy cried.” He sniffled, then he turned and buried his head under Marcus’s arm, muffled cries coming from him.

“It’s okay, Nate,” said Marcus, stroking his back. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“Thank you for talking to me, Nate,” said Abby.

He turned around again, his face damp with tears. “Can I have nana?”

“Yeah, let’s get you a nana.” Marcus took him to the kitchen, then left him happily ensconced on the floor with a bowl of chopped banana and his toys before returning to Abby.

“That was rough,” he said, taking a large gulp of his coffee.

“He clearly has memories of the accident which he’s suppressing. It may take a while to tease them out.”

“I think anyone would want to suppress something like that.”

“Of course. How have things been with you two?”

He put his head in his hands, wiped something, tears or exhaustion she wasn’t sure which, from his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m not very good at this,” he said with a weak laugh.

“Why do you think that? What’s happened?”

“I think I traumatised him about going to the bathroom for the rest of his life.”

“How so?”

“I tried to make him pee standing up cause that’s what you do, right, but it went everywhere and then he wouldn’t tell me when he wanted to go later. I’d looked up how to do it so that went better but I think it was too late. He wet the bed in the night, so I think I’ve ruined him or something.”

His words came out in a rush and he looked at her with the same wide-eyed despair Nathan had, only his eyes were dark fathomless pools.

“Marcus, you haven’t ruined him for life, okay. I think we’re looking at two different things. The first is a mistake, that’s all. Have you had any problems in the bathroom since then?”

“No, it’s been fine. I even dealt with poop!” He looked proudly at her.

“That’s great. So, I think he’s probably already over that incident or he soon will be. The second thing, the bed wetting, is much more likely to be a result of the trauma of the accident and losing his parents than anything you’ve done.”

“Is that a common thing?”

“It’s a common sign of trauma, yes, though not every child will exhibit the same behaviour. Have you noticed anything else? Is he eating properly?”

“Yeah, he’s eating okay. Well, I haven’t exactly fed him properly. I don’t know how to cook and since yesterday there really hasn’t been a lot of time. He had spaghetti hoops for dinner.”

“He said he’d had chocolate today.”

“Yeah,” he said, guiltily. “Mrs Roseman from the deli gave him a rugelach and then when we got home he didn’t want anything else. I told you I’m just no good at this.”

“You need to cut yourself some slack. It’s barely been twenty-four hours. You’ve fed him, cleaned him, put him to bed, got him up and dressed and you’ve clearly played with him and showed him you care for him. He seems contented overall. I think you’ve done a wonderful job.”

“Thank you,” he said with a relieved sigh. “There’s just so much.”

“You probably haven’t had time to go food shopping?”

“No, but there are things in the fridge though I don’t know what to do with them.”

“I’ll have a look before I go, see if I can figure something simple out for you.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” he said, looking delighted at the thought that she was going to the extra trouble.

“It’s not a problem. Now, I want to know how you are doing, how you’re feeling about your friend, and being here.”

“I’m okay,” he said, seemingly less willing to talk about himself than he was about Nathan.

“I noticed there’s a sheet and blanket on the floor there. Did you sleep on the sofa last night?”

He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, rested one leg atop the other, put his hands on it to hold it there. “Erm, yeah. It was easier that’s all.”

“Easier than sleeping in a bed?”

“Yeah, by the time I’d got Nate to bed it was late and I, er, well it was just easier to sleep on the sofa.”

The bedclothes proved it hadn’t been a snap decision as he was claiming, but a premeditated one. For some reason he didn’t want to tell her that he couldn’t face sleeping in his friend’s bed. It was perfectly natural, but she decided not to push it with him yet.

“You said it was late when you put Nate to bed. Did you have problems getting him to sleep?”

“No, that’s one thing I did well! We were watching TV and some time around nine we both fell asleep and when I woke up it was an hour later and I managed to get him in bed without waking him.”

“Nine o’clock is probably a bit late for him to be up.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise. He seemed fine with it.” He looked crestfallen and Abby felt bad about criticising the one thing he felt he’d done right.

“It’s not a bad thing. The most important thing is number of hours slept. At his age he needs around twelve hours, so you need to factor that in. Routine is important, so if you usually get up early then he needs to go to bed early. Nine o’clock would be okay if you didn’t wake him before nine the next morning. Personally, I’d say around seven to seven-thirty would be a good time. He also needs a nap of around forty-five minutes during the day.”

“Oh, wow. That’s actually... Seven-thirty? That means I get an evening.”

Abby couldn’t help smiling at the sheer happiness that was plastered across his face, making those dark eyes bright for the first time since she’d met him.

“You’re allowed time to yourself.”

“Well, I figured but then with the bed wetting I thought maybe he’d tried to wake me to take him to the toilet so I wondered if you have to be available twenty-four-seven.”

“You have to be available obviously, but he should sleep through the night. The bed wetting thing he probably won’t realise until he wakes unless he starts having nightmares, which is possible. There are pants he can wear that will absorb any accidents. They’re called pull-ups.”

“He has those, and I’d figured cause they’re not like regular underpants they must be like a diaper, but they don’t seem to work.”

“If he continues with it then you can get a plastic sheet that will protect the mattress and make it easier to clean everything. There might already be one in the house if they were preparing to move him to the next stage.”

“God, you know everything!” he said, admiringly. “Do you have kids yourself?”

“Erm, no. No, that’s not... I don’t have kids of my own.”

“Just really good at your job, eh?” He gave her a warm smile and Abby swallowed down tears that were threatening to erupt, not because of what he’d said so much as the memory of her conversation with Jason earlier.

“It’s kind of you to say,” she managed. “Shall we look at this fridge? See what you’ve got.”

“That would be great.”

In the kitchen Marcus pulled out a range of vegetables from the fridge while Abby looked in the cupboards.

“What the hell is this?” he said, showing her a large green leafy vegetable.

“That’s kale, it’s kind of like a cabbage.”

Marcus pulled a face. “Anything that green can’t taste good.”

“It’s an acquired taste I suppose.”

“What can I make, doc, bearing in mind I’m hopeless?”

“It’s hard to know what Nate likes to eat, so you’ll have to experiment, but most kids love pasta. You can make a simple pasta dish with a tin of tomatoes, an onion and some mince. Chop up some veggies like carrot into really tiny chunks and that way you can hide some nutrition in the food without either of you noticing.” She couldn’t help looking at him with a sly smirk as she said that. He looked amused in return. “You can chop the kale up and add it as well.”

“Let me get a pen and some paper.” He disappeared and came back a moment later with a well-used notebook. “Go ahead.”

Abby turned back to the cupboards to hide her smile. “You can make a stir fry really easily. All you have to do is chop the veggies into thin strips, stick some oil in this pan, fry with some chicken or meat of your choice for a few minutes and then add this sauce mix.” She put a packet of black bean sauce on the counter. “You can add the kale to that as well.”

He wrote down everything she said in a neat hand. “Okay, so pasta, stir fry. Great. Anything else?”

“Soup is the easiest thing to make. Boil some vegetables in a pan of water, add a stock cube and some salt and pepper to taste and then when it’s cooled a little, mush it up with this stick.” She pointed to a blender that sat on the countertop.

“It can’t be that simple?”

“It is. You can add small pieces of pasta to it as well if you want to make it more substantial, like a minestrone.”

“Oh, cool, well thanks for that.” He shut his notebook with a snap. “You really are a life saver.”

“It’s my pleasure, honestly. So, what is on the agenda for the next couple of days?” She headed out of the kitchen, picked up her jacket from the arm of the chair.

“A social worker is coming tomorrow and on Tuesday we have an appointment at the hospital for a check-up on Nate’s arm. In between that, I don’t know. I’ll try and do some work once Nate’s asleep I guess.”

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself, Marcus.”

“Nate’s all that matters.”

“That’s commendable, but if you become ill, you’re no good to him, are you?”

“True,” he said with a half shrug.

“Take him out for a walk in that fancy stroller you’ve got.”

“I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“As you’re at the hospital on Tuesday shall we schedule our next appointment there? Save you two trips.”

“Sounds good. Our appointment is at ten.”

Abby took out her diary. “Shall we say eleven then? My office is on the third floor.”

“Okay. I’ll come out with you, get some of that fresh air you were talking about.” He pulled on a black leather jacket, tucked Nathan into a red coat, put a hat on his curls.

Abby carried the stroller down the stairs for him and he fastened the boy into it, pushed it down the path next to her. She was right the other day; it did suit them both.

“Oh, god look at that car!” he said, heading towards Abby’s classic red Ford Mustang.

“You like that, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, look at the lines on it.” He ran a delicate finger along the chassis. “Nice.”

“Glad you like it,” she said, putting her key in the door and opening it.

“That’s yours?” he said, eyes wide with astonishment.

“Yes, I said I liked classic cars, remember?”

“God, yes, sorry, I forgot for a moment. You have great taste, it’s superb.”

“Thanks,” she said, glowing in his praise for her car. “Yours is amazing too. Late sixties model, right?”

“Nineteen-sixty-seven, yes.”

“A classic year.”

“It was.” He looked at her as though he was seeing a different person. “I haven’t met many, erm, people who love classic cars like I do.”

“Women, you mean.”

“No. Well, yeah, I suppose.”

“Now you have.” She got into the car, shut the door and rolled down the window. “Isn’t it a bit conspicuous for a private detective’s car?”

“The opposite. Nobody ever thinks that’s who it could belong to.”

“Aah, makes sense. Okay, I’ll see you on Tuesday. Bye, Nate,” she said.

“Bye,” said Nate, giving her a small wave from his stroller.

“Bye, Abby. Thanks again, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Abby started the car, revved the engine just so he could hear how clean it was, and then pulled out. She watched them disappear in her rear view, the bewildered man and the orphan. They were going to need a lot of help along the way, but she thought they’d be fine in the end. They were strong, as was she. They would overcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus meets someone new and Abby meets up with an old friend.

Saturday morning and Kane was knee deep in damp laundry and he had no idea how he was going to get the two loads he’d washed dry. Nathan had wet the clean set of sheets he’d put on the bed the night before, which made two lots plus shorts, t-shirts and some of Kane’s own clothes. The pile that was in Sinclair’s room was still sitting there because it didn’t feel right washing someone else’s things and he had this vague notion that cleaning Sinclair’s clothes would wash part of him away. It wasn’t as though he was going to go in there and sniff them, though, so he wasn’t really sure what his problem was, only that he wasn’t up to facing it.

The instructions for the dryer said not to overload it, so while one set of sheets was in there, the other was piled on the kitchen counter and the rest of the laundry was strewn around the living room. He had items doubled up on the radiator and hanging off the arms of the sofa and chair. He’d found the plastic sheet Abby had recommended and put it on the bed before Nathan went to sleep, so the mattress was one thing he didn’t have to clean at least. If the bedwetting continued was he really going to have to launder every single day? He used to go once a week to a laundromat near the office, drop it off for someone else to deal with and pick it up on his way home. The buzzer went on the dryer and he took out one set of sheets and replaced them with the other.

“Door!” shouted Nathan from his place on the sofa where he was watching TV.

“What’s that?” said Kane, sticking his head around the kitchen door.

“Door buzz,” he said.

“No, that was the dryer.”

Nathan shook his head and a second later a different buzzing sound did come, this one from the front door. Who could this be?

He went down the stairs, picked up a pile of mail from the mat then opened the door to find a small elderly black lady with fluffy white hair and more wrinkles than Yoda.

“Hello,” she said, looking Kane up and down, arms crossed, a frown on her face.

“Hello,” replied Kane. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see the boy,” she said, ducking beneath his arm which was holding the door jamb, and heading up the stairs.

“Hang on a minute!” said Kane, hurrying after her. Surely she couldn’t be the social worker? She wasn’t expected until Monday and she’d have credentials or something. She wouldn’t just barge in. She was spry for an old person and was in the living room before he caught up with her.

“Ya Ya!” cried Nathan, jumping to the floor and allowing himself to be enveloped in a hug.

“Oh my poor boy,” said Ya Ya or whatever her name was.

“Who are you?” said Kane, wondering if he should intervene, but Nathan seemed delighted to see her.

“I live downstairs. I’m Mrs Jones, Grace Jones.”

“Grace Jones?” said Kane, thinking instantly of the singer.

“Aged well, haven’t I?” said Mrs Jones with a wry smile.

Kane couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve shrunk a little, but otherwise...”

Mrs Jones let a loud, throaty laugh. “Oh, I like you already. You’re Jacapo’s friend, the one who needs a good woman?”

“Erm...”

“Emma told me all about you, God rest her soul.” She made the sign of the cross. “It’s such a terrible loss, I can’t believe it.”

A sob erupted from her which turned into a flood of tears and Kane found himself putting his arm around her and then Nathan started crying and he clung to Kane’s leg and Kane stood with one arm around the old lady and the other stroking Nathan’s head and tears sprung to his own eyes. He couldn’t wipe them away, so he had to let them drip onto the heads of the two small people beneath him.

“It’s okay,” he said, trying to believe that himself.

“What happened?” Mrs Jones said after a moment.

Kane told her over a hot drink and a cookie out of a packet she’d brought. She drank a woody-smelling herbal tea that Emma kept in the cupboard for her.

“You’re doing a wonderful thing, looking after this poor boy,” she said, dunking her cookie into the tea. “Where would he be without you?”

“There was no question,” he said.

“No. You’re a good man, I can tell. Handsome too. Why has no woman snapped you up?”

“My job’s my wife, that’s what Sinclair used to say.”

“A man needs a woman. You take my Humphrey. He wouldn’t survive a second without me, be like a fish out of water, wouldn’t even try and see if there was another pond nearby, would just lie there gasping until...” she looked at Nathan, then lowered her voice so that she was mouthing the words. “You know.” She made a choking gesture with her hand and Kane nearly spat out his coffee.

“I know, yes. Luckily for me I’m managing to survive being out of the pond.”

“Hmm, yes, well, we’ll see about that.” She looked around the room with a critical eye while she sipped the cookie-sodden tea. “You know you’ve a yard where you can dry this stuff don’t you?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I’ll show you.”

They finished their drinks and Kane put a coat and hat on Nathan because it was cold for mid September before following Mrs Jones outside. She took him round the back of the complex where there was a fenced area.

“This is ours,” she said, unlocking a gate and going through. Beyond was a small, paved yard with an object in the centre that looked like a metal tree. Large white underpants were strung on one side of it and voluminous cotton nightdresses on the other. In the corner of the yard was a narrow shed.

“Most of these are probably dry,” she said. “I’ll make room for you.” She started unhooking the nightdresses.

“If you’re sure. That’s very kind.”

“Pfft, it’s fine. Any help you need. You want me to do some laundry while you’re working, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” said Kane, moved by her generosity.

“Most important you spend time on that boy not up to your eyes in the laundry.”

“What’s in the shed?” said Kane, heading towards it.

“That’s theirs, yours.”

Kane opened the door, looked inside. Paint cans and assorted junk on the shelves. A dismantled wooden cot and a couple of boxes. A three-wheeled bike in a bright blue with a fat front wheel, like a miniature Harley Davidson. It had a black plastic bucket seat and a plastic basket on the front.

“Bike!” said Nathan, poking his head around Kane’s leg. “Can I have it?”

“Can you ride it?” Kane looked doubtfully at the size of the boy and the size of the bike.

Nathan looked at him like he was stupid.

“Okay then.” Kane took the bike from the shed and Nathan was on it immediately.

“They bought him that for his birthday,” said Mrs Jones, and a lump came to Kane’s throat. He’d have known that if he’d gone to the party.

“I’ll just take him round the path,” he said.

“Take your time. The line will be free when you get back. Knock on my door anytime you want something.” She pressed the key to the gate into his hand. “You should have one somewhere but take that. It’s a spare.”

“Thank you. You’ve been most kind.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Kane looked up to find Nathan was already out of the gate, steering haphazardly with his good arm, his plastered arm waving in the air. He hurried after him.

“Stick to the path!” he shouted as the boy pedalled furiously over the damp grass, leaving tyre trails in his wake. His heart was in his mouth as he saw him wobbling, unable to control the bike properly one-handed. He ran after him, the sudden movement making a pain shoot up his leg, managed to catch up with him as he veered around a corner. He grabbed hold of the handle on the rear, slowed him down.

“Take it easy,” he panted.

Nathan still tried to pedal fast, but Kane’s hand acted as a break and they found a more sedate pace, much to Nathan’s chagrin.

In the afternoon he made the soup Doctor Abby had described and although it was a bit watery it tasted good and Nathan ate it, which made Kane indescribably proud. He had the urge to text Abby to tell her, even took a photograph of the empty bowl, before realising it was a Saturday and she’d only given him her work number and it really wasn’t an appropriate thing to do anyway. There was no one to share these moments with, that was all. He wasn’t about to go downstairs to his new friend, Mrs Jones, and say ‘look, I made soup.’ What would she think of him, a man his age, proud of something simple like that? Come to think of it, what must Abby have thought of him? He groaned, then dismissed the thoughts. The doctor already knew he was useless.

That night, Nathan was clingy, didn’t want Kane to leave him when he’d put him to bed. He stood at the door while the boy cried, uncertain what to do. His instinct was to go to him and comfort him but he wasn’t sure if that was the best thing. He didn’t know much about raising children, but he knew about humans in general and if you gave into something once then you were usually screwed.

“Don’t go!” Nathan sobbed, and that decided it.

Kane went over to him, got under the covers with him and held him while he cried himself to sleep. Poor kid. His world had turned upside down and he didn’t understand why. The worst thing was that healing would involve forgetting. When he was grown he wouldn’t remember this or his parents. As much as Kane wanted him to heal, he didn’t want him to forget the people who’d brought him into the world. It was a difficult balance he wasn’t sure how to achieve. He’d ask Doctor Abby about it when he saw her on Tuesday.

He waited until Nathan was well asleep before easing himself out of the bed and leaving. He had a shower which he did at night now to avoid leaving the boy alone during the day, then lay on the sofa in his boxers and re-read the case notes on the CEO investigation before flicking through Sinclair’s notebooks from the office. There was nothing new, but he hadn’t expected to find anything as Sinclair hadn’t been back to the office since his mysterious discovery. Tomorrow he’d look around the house, see if he’d left a note here. He switched on the TV, found the classic movie channel, lay awake watching The Man with the Golden Arm and The Killers, drifting to sleep as the titular murderers were confronting Browning.

The alarm on his phone went off just before seven and he got up wearily, went to Nathan’s room and pulled back the covers to get in bed before the boy woke and found he’d been gone. The sheets were damp again. Kane sighed. Another thing to delve into at their appointment with the doctor on Tuesday. He slid in next to the boy anyway, curled towards him, put a comforting hand on his small chest.

\---

“I never get tired of these views,” said Abby, standing on the edge of the cliff and looking out across a vast forest that seemed to stretch all the way to New York City, whose skyline was a blue silhouette in the far distance.

She was spending the weekend hiking the Suffern Bear Mountain Trail in Bear Mountain State Park with her old med school friend, Indra. They met up three or four times a year, usually to walk, camp, drink beer and talk. Indra was thirty-six, two years older than Abby, and they’d got on well at college despite being polar opposites of each other. Indra was a tall, statuesque black woman with short black hair, eyes darker than the deepest pools, a penchant for tattoos and a sharp no-nonsense personality. Abby was short and slim, and her only adornments were a pair of pearl earrings and a necklace that used to belong to her mother. She could be no-nonsense too, but her edges were softer than Indra’s, who could cut you down with a glance if she felt like it, which she did most of the time. After leaving med school, Abby had specialised in paediatrics and Indra had become a Medical Examiner in Connecticut, preferring the dead to the living as she liked to say.

“I don’t care about the views. I’m just glad to be away from Gaia. She’s driving me crazy!”

That was the other difference between them. Indra had a seventeen-year-old daughter, having got pregnant at not much older than Gaia was now. She’d put herself through med school while also caring for a child, a feat of determination and endurance that Abby had admired greatly and had led to them becoming firm friends.

“She’s too like you, that’s the problem.”

Indra grunted, unwilling to admit that as always. “I fear she’s heading down the same road.”

“What do you mean?” said Abby as they left the viewpoint and headed back to the main trail.

“Late nights out doing god knows what.”

“Surely not, she’s so sweet.”

“Abby, last time you saw her she was fourteen and still into unicorns. Three years is a long time in teenage land, like dog years. She’s all into mysticism and crystals and chakras and peoples’ auras and I don’t even know what.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You would say that. I can still smell that awful incense you used to burn in your room. Bloated bodies I’ve examined have been more pleasant.” She pulled a face. “Anyway, it’s not the real world, is it? It’s make-believe.”

“The real world is shit sometimes, so I’m not sure I’m against make-believe.”

Indra stopped suddenly, looked at Abby sharply. “It’s not like you to be so pessimistic. Has that asshole been bothering you again?”

“I caught him in my house yesterday, rifling through the drawer where I keep legal papers and stuff.”

“What did he want?”

“He claimed he was looking for his passport.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“No. He took that when he left, and he knows he did. I don’t know what he was looking for, but it was unnerving.”

“You shouldn’t have let him in.”

“I didn’t! He used his key and then he found the one for the drawer even though I’d hidden it.”

“Why does he still have a key, Abby? Take it off him!”

“I asked but he just teased me with it. A locksmith is coming round Monday to change them.”

“Good for you. I never did know what you saw in him.”

“He was good-looking, a musician, care-free, totally different to all the guys at college. Who doesn’t want to be serenaded and have songs written about them?”

“Hmm, me, although I can see how that might be attractive to some idiots,” she said, looking pointedly at Abby, “but he was also a lazy good-for-nothing.” Indra headed off the trail a few yards, dropped her backpack. “Is this a good spot?”

“Yes, looks fine.” Abby dropped her pack next to Indra’s. “I didn’t know that at the time. I thought he was going to be the next Bob Dylan.”

Indra guffawed at that. “Jesus, Abby. That soft heart of yours.”

“I lived in hope,” she said wryly.

They pitched their tents and Abby heated the soup she’d made over the camping stove. They ate it with chunks of bread and washed it down with beer.

“He brought up wanting to be a father again,” she told Indra as the second beer started to loosen her tongue.

Indra shook her head in disgust. “That fucker. If I get my hands on him I’ll dissect him like a cadaver.”

Abby chuckled at the image, then she put her head in her hands and sighed. “I don’t blame him for leaving. How can I? I can’t give him what he wants.”

“I can’t believe he wants a baby. He just likes the idea of one. He never even made you dinner when you’d been out at work all day and he’d been strumming his goddamned guitar or whatever he did. Can you imagine him changing a diaper?”

Abby had imagined that. Ever since they’d decided to start trying three years ago she’d pictured him with their child, singing it to sleep, writing songs for it like he used to do for Abby when they first met.

“It might have been the making of him.”

“It’s never the making of them, Abby. They’re either father material or they’re not.”

“I have to disagree on that, actually. I have a case at the moment, terribly sad situation.” She took a swig of her beer, stared out at the darkening night. “This guy lost his best friends in a car accident and found out he was legal guardian to their kid on the same day and now he’s got to bring him up alone.”

“Oh, Christ,” said Indra.

“Yeah. The boy is three, absolutely gorgeous little kid. The curliest hair you’ve ever seen.” She smiled as she pictured Nathan. “The guy had no clue. He is literally the most clueless man I’ve ever met. No idea at all about children. Can’t even cook. His idea of a healthy dinner was spaghetti hoops!” She looked aghast at Indra.

“Imagine!” said Indra with a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, well, I’m just establishing the baseline here. He didn’t know kids needed a car seat, what time they go to bed. Somehow he’s got through his entire life like that.”

“Not everyone likes kids. Why would he know if he doesn’t have any?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just assumed he would have absorbed some information by osmosis. The kid is his best friend’s after all. He’s godfather to him.”

“How old is this guy?”

“Thirty-six,” said Abby, recalling Marcus’s age from his file.

“Thirty-six and no woman in his life. Hmm. Is he gay?”

“I don’t think so. He likes classic cars.”

“And that makes him straight?”

“No, it’s just a detail. He has a nineteen-sixty-seven Chevy Impala. Beautiful.” Abby finished her beer, took another one from the cool bag. She was in a drinking mood and one more wouldn’t hurt.

“I see,” said Indra.

“The point is, that he’s obviously not classic father material. He told me himself he didn’t want to be a father, wasn’t cut out for it. Yet I saw him yesterday and he’s doing an amazing job. He’s consumed with trying to do his best for the boy, even asked me for some recipes so he could learn to make something nutritious for him. He said nothing matters except Nathan. He’s given up his whole life. Isn’t that impressive?” She realised she’d let slip the boy’s name which was unprofessional of her. She rarely discussed her cases with anyone outside the profession and never with their names attached.

“Then maybe he was father material but didn’t know it, had never had the opportunity to find out.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s possible.” She leant back on her elbows, bottle of Corona balanced between her knees, pictured Marcus and Nathan. She wondered if they’d enjoy hiking, could see him pushing the boy up the trail in his sporty stroller.

“Is he good-looking, this father who isn’t a father?”

Abby turned towards Indra, who was staring critically at her. “I guess so, yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering. What’s his name?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“It’s just me. What am I going to do with the information?”

“He’s called Marcus. Marcus Kane.” She blamed the beer for opening her mouth when it should have stayed closed.

“Marcus Kane. Right.” Indra nodded sagely, a habit she had when she thought she was right about something and wouldn’t be budged, which frequently infuriated Abby.

“What?” said Abby, scowling at her.

“Just making a mental note, that’s all.”

“There’s nothing to make a mental note about. He’s a client.”

“First one you’ve told me about in forever.”

“It’s an unusual case; it’s been on my mind.”

Indra shrugged, stared out across the trail with a smile on her face.

“I don’t feel... I’m in the middle of a separation! My life’s a mess.”

“I know it is. It’s just a feeling.”

“I thought you weren’t into feelings and mysticism.”

“No, but when it comes to you...”

“It’s a purely professional relationship.”

“But you know he likes classic cars.”

“Yes. Shut up.”

Indra lay back with her arms pillowing her head and Abby did the same. She thought her friend was imagining something that wasn’t there. Abby was impressed with Marcus, that was all. He was determined and dedicated, despite his numerous shortcomings, and she liked that in a person, just like she had in Indra. He was to be admired, and the situation was fascinating from a professional point of view. He and Nathan would make a good case study. She might ask him on Tuesday if he’d be willing to take part in something like that. There could be a scholarly article in it.


	8. Chapter 8

Kane sat on an uncomfortable sofa in a small room on the third floor of the King’s County Hospital Centre, Nathan playing with Buzz beside him, while he waited for Doctor Abby to appear. He was early, having been through an X-Ray and an appointment with Nathan’s consultant in record time. He looked around as the door opened and the doctor walked in. He felt relief when he saw her; there was something comforting about her neat braid and her blue lab coat. It gave him confidence, as though whatever he was facing or going through could be solved. He only had to tell her about it.

“Morning, Marcus. Morning, Nate,” she said, taking off the lab coat to reveal a soft creamy blouse and grey skirt. She took a seat in the chair opposite them, crossed her long legs. Her feet were clad in black high heeled shoes that looked like hell to walk on to Kane. He guessed she wore them to make her look taller, because she was quite a small woman all round except for the legs. Petite, he guessed was the term.

“Morning, Doctor Abby. Say good morning, Nate.” Kane nudged Nathan to get his attention. He looked up at Marcus, then Abby, then back to his toy.

“How have things been since Friday?”

“Good and bad.”

“Tell me.”

“The good things are that we saw the social worker yesterday. She came to the house and must have been pleased with everything because she gave us a good report. We see her again in another two weeks and then after that she said it will be monthly.”

“That’s great! Well done, not that I doubted you wouldn’t pass with flying colours.”

“Thanks,” said Kane, growing warm in the glow of her praise. “Secondly, we just came from visiting the consultant. Nate’s arm is healing as expected so we don’t have to return for five weeks and then it will be to see whether the plaster can come off.”

“More good news. Is he still getting any pain from it?”

“No, it doesn’t bother him. The other day he was riding his trike one handed and waving it around in the air.” He looked down at Nathan, stroked his hair.

“Kids his age are remarkably resilient.”

“They are. Oh, I’ve been cooking! A few things now, but the first one I made was the soup, which he ate.” He took out his phone, showed her the photo of the empty bowl. Why he felt the need to do that he couldn’t explain, but it felt good when she smiled approvingly.

“Looks like it was yummy! Did you like Marcus’s soup, Nate?”

Nathan had abandoned Buzz, sat looking at Abby with his thumb in his mouth. He nodded.

“He started doing that yesterday, the thumb thing, after the social worker had gone. It’s in his mouth a lot now.”

“It will be comforting for him, possibly a way of dealing with some anxiety. You said there were some bad things as well. What were those?”

Kane told her about the continuing bed wetting and how clingy Nathan was being, how he had to stay with him while he fell asleep and be there when he woke. Abby made notes while he spoke.

“These are classic signs of grief and anxiety, although I might schedule a urine test if it continues so frequently, just to be sure there’s not a medical reason.”

“I’m not making him feel secure enough,” Kane said, despair flooding his veins.

“No, it’s not that, Marcus. These are related to the loss of his parents and the trauma of the car accident. Because he doesn’t understand the concept of something being forever, he thinks his parents will come back and when they don’t that leads to feelings of abandonment and also fear that the other people in his life won’t come back. So, even if you leave the room that can be distressing for him. And I can only imagine how hard that is on you.”

“Jesus! Poor kid. What can I do about it?”

“What you are doing. Plenty of reassurance, being there for him. There’s no quick fix for this except time. I’m not saying you can’t ever leave him because that’s not the real world, but lots of reassurance that you’ll be back will help.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Nate can’t externalise his feelings, and this is how he’s expressing himself. You have to learn to interpret this the same way you would if he was talking to you. What’s difficult is how to treat it. If I were counselling you I would give you exercises to do. It might be breathing exercises, meditation, behavioural therapy, talking about it. We can’t do that with Nate.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“I’m going to start some art therapy with him today, and you can continue it at home. You don’t have to be able to interpret what he draws or anything like that, but you can observe today and I can give you techniques for trying to encourage him this way and to try and get him to talk about what he’s drawn.”

“Okay, but he mostly just scribbles,” said Kane, unconvinced by this method.

“I know, that’s where my years of training and knowledge of the techniques come in.”

She flashed him a kind of wry smile and he imagined that behind that she was thinking what an idiot he was.

“I trust you completely,” he said, giving her one of his most winning smiles in return.

“That’s good,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Shall we make a start?”

They moved to a small table and Kane sat with Nathan on his knee, watching carefully while he and Abby drew pictures together. He made notes in his notebook while she coaxed interpretations of the scribbles out of the boy. She was good, leaving him even more impressed than he already was.

Nothing of any great import came out of this first session, but Abby assured him that was to be expected. It would take time, like everything else.

“Can I ask you something practical, about the bed wetting?” he said as the session came to a close.

“Yes. Anything.”

“Well, first of all the plastic sheet idea was great. It saves me cleaning the mattress, but these pull-up pants are definitely not leak-proof, no matter what they claim, and I’m washing sheets and pyjamas nearly every day. I’m not saying I mind or anything, but it’s a lot, you know. It’s exhausting. Is there anything else I can do? Should he be in a diaper?”

“The pull-ups are the best thing at his age. My tips would be not to give him anything to drink too close to bedtime, and make sure he goes for a pee at least twice before sleep. That way you’ll limit the amount that can come out and consequently any leakage.”

“He likes a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“That will have to stop. Cut down the amount first, then phase it out.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Wait until you’re stopping him from going out with his friends to a late-night concert or dating the wrong kind of girl. Then you’ll know what he doesn’t like.”

She obviously found this thought highly amusing because she laughed long and loudly. Nathan joined in and she ruffled his hair as she got up from the table. Kane stood as well, held Nathan’s hand.

“Thanks again,” he said. “You’ve been amazing as always.”

“No problem. I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

“You will.”

Kane headed to the door and opened it.

“How’s the car?” she said before he could leave. “Was that a chocolate smear I saw on it last week?”

“Yes. I managed to get it off. Mostly. How’s your car? The engine sounded sweet when you drove off.”

“Doesn’t it? I gave it a run up to Bear Mountain State Park last weekend. It was a nice drive.”

“Yeah? What were you doing up there?”

“Hiking with a friend. Do you hike?”

“Haven’t done in a while. I struggle a bit with the steeper paths because of my leg.” He was surprised at her question, her interest in talking about something other than Nathan.

“What’s the problem with your leg?”

“I got shot.” He went through the door with Nathan. “See you next week, doc.”

He left before she could say anything in reply. He wasn’t sure why, but a little mystery never did anyone any harm.

“Always leave them wanting more, Nate,” he said.

“More!” said Nathan in reply.

“That’s right. Shall we go get our donut now? I think we’ve earned it.”

“Yeah!! Donut!” he said loudly, stringing the word out.

\---

After visiting the bakery Kane decided to go food shopping as there was a Target nearby. He was running low on groceries and was fed up with Sinclair’s preferred brand of certain stuff like coffee, which he’d never liked.

Nathan refused to sit in the trolley seat like other kids his age seemed to be doing, so Kane had to push the trolley with one hand and hold onto the boy with the other. He tried to drag Kane to the toy section which was vast, and Kane resisted at first until his eye was drawn by some pyjamas nearby that looked like a Buzz Lightyear suit. If he got Nate another pair he wouldn’t have to wash them as often.

“Do you like these?” he said, showing him the set.

Nathan shrugged in response.

“Oh, they’re adorable,” said a middle-aged woman walking past with a trolley loaded to the brim.

“Yeah?” said Kane.

“Yes. How old is he?”

“He’s three.”

“I’d get age four if I were you. They grow so fast at that age. You want the clothes to last longer than five minutes. Just roll up the legs if it’s too big.”

“Thanks.” Kane picked out an age four pair, put them in the trolley.

“It’s so nice seeing a dad out shopping with his son.” The woman gave Kane and Nathan a kind smile then pushed the teeming trolley expertly around the corner.

Kane looked at Nathan, a warm feeling in his chest. “Come on, son,” he said, the word sounding strange on his tongue. He picked out a small plastic fire engine to satisfy his need for a toy, then they continued to the food aisles.

It was tempting to load up on preprepared meals like pizzas and various chicken and potato products that had smiley faces on them designed to tempt children, but he’d made a pledge to himself to give Nathan nutritious food. The thought of cooking seven days a week was too much, though, so he figured two cheat days would be okay.

“Do you like pizza?” he said to Nathan.

“Yes, yummy.”

“Which one do you like?” He lifted the boy so he could see the huge array of products on the shelf. He pointed to one that had four different kinds of meat and black olives. Kane was dubious. It seemed like a lot of complex flavours for a young kid, plus he hated olives.

“What about this one?” he said, pointing to a simple pepperoni.

“Yes!” said Nathan, grabbing at the box one-handed.

“Okay then.” Kane put it in his basket along with frozen French fries and a chicken pot pie that looked okay.

Every item he wanted to purchase he asked Nathan if he liked it, and he said yes to everything Kane showed him. It became a game in the end, Kane finding the most obscure disgusting things and Nathan shouting yes louder and louder, encouraged by Kane’s laughter. They were told off in the toiletry’s aisle by a well-dressed old woman, and Kane pulled a face at her behind her back sending Nathan into fits of laughter again. He knew he shouldn’t be encouraging this behaviour, but it was good to see the boy having fun, and laughing felt good in the moment.

Half of his trolley was taken up by huge packets of Huggies and toilet rolls. It was incredible how much came out of someone so small and keeping him clean was expensive. He realised as he passed the alcohol that he hadn’t had a drink in nearly a week, which was a miracle for him. He didn’t want to be drunk when Nathan might need him, so he added a six pack of beer and figured one a night would suffice.

At the checkout he stood with a tired Nathan in his arms, looking at the items on the conveyor belt. They were a visual representation of how much his life had changed in a week. He’d gone from ready meals, bourbon and potato chips to veggies, orange juice and Tide pods. Sinclair wouldn’t believe it if he could see him now. There was a display of Chex Mix on the stand at the end of the checkout and he picked one up for old times’ sake.

“The wife got you doing the shopping has she?” said the young woman on the till.

“I don’t have a wife,” said Kane distractedly.

“Single dad? Awww.” The woman looked at him sympathetically. “He’s so cute, just like his daddy.” She fixed her eyes on him as she scanned the groceries through.

“Erm, thanks,” said Kane, not knowing what else to say.

“Do you want me to bag these for you as you have your hands full?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Back at the car he fastened Nathan into his car seat. “Do you know you cost more in a week than I used to spend in a month?”

Nathan blinked at him, thumb in mouth, unconcerned with Kane’s bank balance.

He opened the trunk, tried to load the groceries into it but it wasn’t designed for practical use and he could only fit a couple of bags in along with the stroller, the supply bag he now carried everywhere and an assortment of Nathan’s toys. He had to put the bulk of it on the rear seats.

“Can I have Buzz?” Nathan said after Kane had shut the trunk and was getting into the driver’s seat. He groaned.

“Why didn’t you ask before I got back in the car?”

Nathan shrugged. “I want him now.”

Kane tutted, got out, opened the trunk, got the toy, gave it to him.

“What do you say?” he said.

“Thank yoooooo,” said Nathan, giving Kane a beatific smile as though butter wouldn’t melt.

He’d always wondered why people had children because they just seemed to be one big pain in the ass to him. Now, as his heart swelled with affectionate amusement at the audacity of the kid, he thought maybe he was starting to see why. It was impossible not to feel something. He ruffled his hair.

“Let’s go home.”

He was halfway out of the parking lot when his phone rang. He stopped to answer it.

“Marcus Kane.”

“Mr Kane, it’s Officer Roberts from the seventy-eighth precinct.”

Kane got a cold shiver at the man’s voice because those were his exact words when he’d called to tell him about Sinclair. His heart rate picked up and he had to take a breath before replying.

“Do you have news, officer?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m able to inform you that the personal effects of Mr and Mrs Sinclair are available for you to collect at your convenience.”

“Oh, great,” said Kane. “Where are they?”

“They’re here at the precinct.”

The seventy-eighth was a ten-minute drive from where he was. He debated briefly whether to go now or wait until the next day. He had frozen food that he couldn’t let spoil, plus Nathan was due lunch and then a nap. He decided to go now. Another half an hour or so wouldn’t be a disaster and it would be better than driving all the way out here again tomorrow.

“I’m a few minutes away as it happens. Are you available now?”

“Yes, I’ll be here until two.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Thank you for calling.”

Kane drove to the Seventy-eighth precinct, his mind on the crash which had only happened six days ago but seemed like a lifetime. Inside the precinct it felt strange to be in an environment so familiar for most of his adult life without Sinclair. He kept Nathan strapped in the stroller so there was no chance of him wandering off and he could concentrate on whatever Officer Roberts had to say. The man appeared a few minutes later, took them into a small interview room.

“Thank you for coming, Mr Kane,” he said. He looked at Nathan. “Hello, young man.”

“This is Nathan, the son... you know,” said Kane.

“Yes, of course. How is everything going?”

“Better than I expected in some ways.”

“I think you’re doing a great thing. I’ve got two kids myself; I know what a handful they are.”

“Yeah, well we’re doing okay. What do you have for me?”

Officer Roberts took out two large plastic bags. He passed a piece of paper to Kane. “This is an inventory of everything that was in the car or the possession of Mr and Mrs Sinclair. You’ll see that clearly not everything is here. That’s because some of it like the car seat and the stroller was destroyed in the crash or, like the clothes for example, it’s beyond, erm, well it’s not something you’d want.”

“I understand.”

“You’ll need this evidentiary form to be able to claim for the vehicle and lost belongings on the insurance.”

Kane was taken aback at his words. Nothing like that had crossed his mind. “Claim on the insurance? I doubt I’ll be able to do that, I’m not the beneficiary. I haven’t even considered things like that.”

“I don’t know the ins and outs of insurance but you are the boy’s legal guardian so there might be a claim to put in on his behalf. Did the Sinclair’s have a will?”

“I don’t know.”

“It might be an idea to find out and contact a solicitor.”

“Right, yes. Erm, has there been any progress in the investigation? I’ve been meaning to call but I’ve been so busy with Nathan and the time has just got away from me.”

“There’s been slow progress on our side. We don’t have the vehicle, that was taken by Captain Miller who I believe you know.”

“Yes, he was our Captain when me and Sinclair were on the force.”

“We’re still working on the CCTV. We’ve got footage from the cameras on Crown and Washington which corroborate what the witnesses have said in that the vehicle was driving normally then suddenly sped up and veered off the road before hitting the tree. We’re tracing the route back to when they left Prospect Park. That will probably take another couple of weeks at least. I’ll call you when we have news.”

“Thank you.”

“One other thing. I heard that the Medical Examiner is prepared to release the erm...” He looked at Nathan.

“I understand,” said Kane. “Do we have a date?”

“They will contact you as next of kin. The delay I believe was at the request of Captain Miller, something to do with his investigation into the vehicle, but my source told me that is resolved at least in regard to the remains.”

“He hasn’t contacted me.”

“I’m sure he will now that things are moving along.” Roberts stood and Kane got up too and shook his hand.

“Thank you for these and for the information.”

“You’re welcome. Do you need a hand with the bags?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” He took Nathan out of the stroller and put the bags in his place, then steered one-handed out of the precinct and back to his car.

He sat behind the wheel without moving for a long time. He’d let things slide, he realised, hadn’t kept up with the investigation the way he should have. There’d been so much to do just looking after Nathan. They were in a routine of sorts now, so it was time to get back to work, and his top priorities were getting justice for his friends, and making sure Nate was taken care of financially.

Back at the house Kane waited until Nathan was having his nap to open the bags. He sat with his back to the sofa and emptied the contents of both onto the floor. The most obvious thing was a soft toy in the form of a monkey. He picked it up, saw the sales tag was still on. It had come from the zoo so they must have bought it for Nathan while they were there. Kane propped it against the sofa next to him. Next was Emma’s bag with an assortment of stuff like lipstick, band aids and tissues, snack bars, safety pins, her cell phone and her purse with her cards, a few dollars and a picture of her, Sinclair and Nathan. Kane closed the purse quickly, unable to look at it.

Sinclair’s wallet stared at him next, a battered brown leather thing Kane remembered buying him when they joined the force because prior to that Sinclair had kept all his bills and change in his pockets.

“Perps will hear you jangling a mile away,” Kane had said before giving him the wallet.

He opened it with shaky hands. A handful of bills along with his credit cards, a few cents in the coin pocket. There were two pictures tucked inside one of the card holders. The same one Emma had, and one of Sinclair and Kane on the day of the wallet giving. They were in their police dress uniforms, arms around each other, grinning like idiots. Their first day on the job. Kane pulled the photo out despite the fact that his chest was so tight he could hardly breathe. Twelve years ago, he thought. Felt like a lifetime and like yesterday at the same time. He caressed the photo with this thumb.

“You stupid idiot,” he said, angry with his friend for dying and leaving him even though it wasn’t his fault.

He took a deep breath, looked through the rest, wanting to get this over with. It was mostly random crap people kept in cars. Sinclair’s notebook was there, thank God, secured in an envelope. He put it to one side to examine later. Another envelope, small like the ones you put money into in church sometimes, not that Kane had been to church in forever, nor was he likely to. He opened it, tipped out the contents. Two silver wedding rings, one small, one large. Something happened in his throat; it was as though his heart came up into it and then lodged there so he couldn’t breathe or swallow or do anything.

He managed to get up, stumbled to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and forced it down. He returned to the living room, resumed his position on the floor. Sinclair’s ring had rolled under the TV cabinet in his haste to get up, and he retrieved it, slipped it onto the third finger of his right hand. He looked at it for a moment and then he took it off. It belonged to Nathan. He’d put the rings away for him for when he was older.

Kane put everything back into the bags except for the rings, cell phones, notebook and monkey. He sat on the sofa, the monkey in his hands, its fur soft and fluffy. He took out his own cell phone, typed a text.

_Hi. Sorry to bother you, hope this is okay. I got their possessions today and there’s a toy monkey they must have bought Nate at the zoo. Should I give it to him? Will it cause problems, like with his trauma? Marcus Kane_

He didn’t expect a reply really, wasn’t sure if he’d been given the number for such a purpose, so he went and made a coffee, brought it back to the sofa and switched on the TV. Fifteen minutes later his phone rang. It was Abby.

“Hi!” he said, surprised at the call.

“Hi. Sorry, it was easier to ring than try and type out a long message.”

“I’m sorry I texted you. I shouldn’t have. I don’t want you to think I’m abusing that you gave me this number. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine, Marcus. I know you won’t abuse it. So they bought him a monkey, yeah?”

“Yes. I didn’t know whether if I gave it to him it would make him feel good or if it would bring back memories of the day and the crash and whether that would be good or bad.”

“It’s impossible to say how he’ll react, but I think that our goal is to encourage him to express himself in whatever way he wants about what happened that day, even if that is being upset. Burying it or pretending it didn’t happen isn’t good for him.”

“Yeah, I figured that.”

“Give it to him, tell him where it came from. If he gets too distressed, then maybe it’s best saved for another day. You’ll have to use your judgement.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“It can’t have been easy having to go through their things.”

Her voice was soft and warm in his ear and Kane pressed the phone closer. “No. He, erm. He has a wallet that I gave him our first day on the police force together. It’s erm...” He couldn’t finish his sentence because to his horror he started sobbing and he couldn’t stop. It didn’t matter that Abby was on the other end of the phone, that he was weeping in front of her like a child, nothing could halt their flow.

“Let it out,” she said gently.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

“It’s okay.”

There was silence while Kane wept and sniffed.

“He was a good friend,” Abby said.

“The best. I miss him.”

“Of course you do. It’s easy to lose sight of yourself in all this, Marcus. You lost your friends and you’re grieving. You need to allow yourself to do that.”

“I’m sorry to put this on you.”

“This program is about you as much as Nathan. You’re a pair, you’re a family, and your wellbeing is just as important as his if not more so, because you’re the one carrying the burden of it all. I’m here for both of you.”

“Thank you. I’m not usually...” He trailed off, embarrassed now about his behaviour. He didn’t want her or anyone to see him like this.

“These are difficult times. You are strong, one of the strongest people I’ve met, and you can do this. But strong people know when to ask for help, and I think you needed to talk today and that’s why you texted me, and I’m glad you did. That’s a positive action to have taken.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t be embarrassed about opening up to me,” she said, as though she could read his mind which he supposed she was trained to do. “Talking is the best therapy. I left you the names of some support groups in the folder. Have you contacted any of them?”

“I’m not really one for talking like that. Not usually anyway.”

“I think you should consider it. One of them is for men who’ve been bereaved and have young children. I know their situation isn’t going to be the same as yours, but you might find it useful, and even if you don’t want to discuss your emotions they might have practical tips for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll consider it, doc,” he said, having no intention to do so. He wanted to get off the phone now, having revealed more than he should to her.

“Okay. Go and give Nate a kiss and a cuddle and see how the monkey goes. If you want to talk again then that’s okay.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I appreciate it, but I’m good now. I’ll see you next week. Thanks, doc.”

He ended the call, flopped back on the sofa and closed his eyes. Abby might be right about talking to someone, but he didn’t think he could talk to strangers. He’d be fine now. It was out of his system.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane tries to make headway with his investigation into Sinclair's death. Abby ponders her relationship and thinks about Marcus.

It was the following day before Kane got a chance to look through Sinclair’s notebook properly. He couldn’t face it after his phone call with Abby, and Nathan required so much of his attention it was hard to get the time to focus properly. That was why he’d been down to see Mrs Jones the elderly neighbour that morning, and she was in the living room playing with Nathan while Kane sat in Sinclair’s bedroom at the small desk he had in the corner near the window.

He flicked through the notebook. Sinclair’s handwriting had always been large but neat, each letter looking deliberately crafted. Kane’s was neat too when he had time to think, but sometimes his hand couldn’t keep up with his thoughts, and the writing became an unreadable scrawl to anyone except him. On the last page was a note dated the day before Sinclair died.

_HM has bank records showing payments by Cadogan to Empire Foods Inc. Claims it’s a front company and the payments are for services rendered. I’m not sure. She’s going to call later with proof._

Kane didn’t know who HM was. He looked back through the notebook, found another reference to her.

_HM a possible contact. Has axe to grind with BC so not sure how reliable she’ll be._

That was the first and only other note relating to HM. Kane wasn’t surprised Sinclair hadn’t mentioned her before. If he wasn’t sure how reliable she was he wouldn’t bring it up until he had more confidence. Had she called him since with the proof?

He got up, went into the living room to get Sinclair’s phone. He’d brought the kitchen table into the room and Nathan and Mrs Jones were sitting at it, sticking things onto a piece of paper, glue and glitter everywhere.

“You guys having fun?” he said.

“Look,” said Nathan, holding up his paper so all the excess glitter slid off and onto the floor.

“That’s amazing,” said Kane dutifully, staring at the scribble. How the hell did Abby interpret what he did? It all looked the same to him.

“It’s monkey.”

“Great job.” He ruffled Nathan’s hair then fetched a dustpan and brush, swept up the glitter before returning to the bedroom with Sinclair’s phone.

The battery was dead, of course. There was a charger next to the desk and he plugged the phone into it. It lit up, and when he swiped the screen it requested a six-digit numerical code. He typed in 180617, which was Nathan’s birthday but that didn’t work. Their anniversary, maybe, which was also now the day they died. God! He swallowed the feelings down, had to get on with this. He recalled his conversation about it in the car with Sinclair. Twelve years he’d said, which would make the year 2008, the same year they’d entered the police force, that was right. He entered the correct numbers and the phone became accessible.

There were loads of missed calls and voicemails. Kane scrolled through the calls. Some were named and others he vaguely recognised but most were unknown numbers. He listened to the voicemails. The first four or five were people who must have heard about the accident, calling him saying they hoped it wasn’t true, asking him to call them back, which of course he could never do. Kane wished he had a whisky or something so he could get through this more easily.

Then he hit the jackpot, a female voice, young sounding.

_Jacapo I have the proof you wanted. Can we meet? It can’t be here, somewhere closer to you maybe where no one will know me. Call be back._

There was one other message asking why he hadn’t called and that was it. Kane listened to the first message again, pressed a button when prompted so he could get the number. He wrote it down in his own notebook. He pondered his next move for a moment, and then he dialled the number from Sinclair’s phone. The voicemail message at the other end was a generic voice. He decided not to leave a message just yet. He fired up Sinclair’s laptop, using the password they’d both agreed to use so they could access each other’s work if necessary. It was maltesefalcon, a cliché which had made them both laugh at the time.

He was running a search on the initials HM when Sinclair’s phone rang. It was the number he’d called earlier.

“Hello?” he said, not wanting to give anything away if it wasn’t the woman he was looking for.

“Who is this?” came the same female voice as on the voicemail, her tone sharp and fearful.

“My name is Marcus Kane. I erm, I work with Jacapo Sinclair.”

Silence on the line.

“Jacapo’s dead.”

“I know. I’m his partner, we worked together. I’m from Kane Investigations.”

“I can’t talk to you.”

“I only found his note about you today. I’ve been... there’s been a lot to do and I, well it doesn’t matter. I’d like to see the proof you mentioned in your voicemail. Can we meet?”

“Are you crazy?” she said, her voice an angry whisper. “I tell him about it and next thing he’s dead! I’ve had to stay off work sick. I’m not even at home, I’m in hiding.”

“It was a car accident,” said Kane, alarmed by her words and her fear.

“Was it?”

“I—"

“We can’t meet. I don’t want any more to do with it. Don’t call again.”

The line went dead, and Kane stared at the phone. What the hell was she so paranoid about? How good was the proof? He needed to speak to Miller, find out what he knew, why he was holding onto the bodies.

He called him from his own phone.

“Kane,” said Miller when he answered. “I was just going to call you.”

Yeah, right, thought Kane. “Oh, that’s good timing then, Sir,” he said. “I was at the seventy-eighth yesterday collecting Sinclair’s possessions. Officer Roberts said that Emma and Sinclair are ready to be released.”

“They are, yes. That’s what I was calling you about.”

“OK, great. I’ll get onto the ME.”

“Good man.”

“Sir, may I ask why it has taken so long? I was told at the hospital that it would be a day or two at the most and now it’s been over a week.”

“I wanted to have the bodies available for comparison with any findings from the vehicle investigation, which has been slow mainly due to the fact that I wanted to personally oversee the work and I haven’t had a lot of spare time.”

“Do you have findings from the accident?” Kane’s chest grew tight as he waited for Miller to give a verdict.

“The cause was mechanical failure. The brake pads and lines were worn and there was a fault with the steering system.”

“No way, Sir—”

“Wait a moment, please, Kane. The accelerator had seized, and it was a combination of that and the other faults that caused the accident. It would probably have been survivable if the vehicle hadn’t bounced out into the traffic where it was hit again as you know.”

“There’s no way Sinclair would have allowed the maintenance to lapse, Sir. It might have been an old car but he looked after it. His family’s safety was everything to him.”

“I know, and so I obtained the documents from its last safety inspection which was ten months ago. It passed with no issues.”

“So something happened since then? Can you do that? Can you tamper with the steering outside of a garage?”

“Yes it’s possible according to the mechanic who did the investigation. He wasn’t able to say when it happened.”

Kane sat back in the hard chair, his heart thumping. Someone had caused this deliberately. Survivable, Miller said, so they hadn’t intended to kill Sinclair, maybe, although they clearly hadn’t cared for any unintended consequences. Was it a warning?

“Was there any trace evidence?”

“No. It was a thorough job.”

“Do you think it’s related to the Cadogan case?”

“It’s a possibility, which was why I supervised the investigation myself, but it’s not the only explanation. What about your other cases? Anything there?”

“I don’t know, there’s nothing on the scale of the Cadogan case. We wrapped a couple of cheating spouse cases. There’s an insurance fraud Sinclair was looking at. I’ll have to go through everything.”

“Do that. In the meantime we’ll keep this between us. The official cause of death is trauma initiated by an accident.”

Kane gripped the phone tighter, trying to keep control of the emotions that were welling inside him. “What are the next steps, Sir?”

“Investigate your other cases. I’ll be in touch if I have anything new.”

“I’ll have to organise the funeral.”

“Do that, send me the date. Your fellow officers will be there. We’ll give him the send-off he deserves.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Kane sat with his head in his hands after the call with Miller. He’d known deep down this was going to be because of the case they were working on. Hadn’t wanted to believe it because then that would mean Sinclair was dead because of him. He’d taken the case. He’d told him to investigate more on the side. It was all his fault, and he was never going to be able to forgive himself.

“Marcus! Look at this!”

He turned to see Nathan running towards him, another paper in his hand, a big grin on his face.

“Another monkey?” said Kane, forcing a smile.

“It’s you and the moon!” Nathan said proudly.

“Is it?” said Kane, pulling the boy closer so he could see. There was indeed a drawing of the moon in the corner of the paper, presumably done by Mrs Jones, and which Nathan had scribbled over in yellow crayon. The moon must have been outlined with the glue because a silvery glitter was stuck to it in an arc. Beneath it was a tall, thin man shape with a huge red slash for a mouth and black glittery hair. A warm feeling spread through his veins.

“It looks just like me.” He picked the boy up, sat him on his knee. Nathan put the drawing on top of the notebooks, picked up Kane’s pen and added more scribbles.

Kane kissed his head, let his lips linger among the curls, breathing in his powdery scent. “I’m going to look after you,” he murmured. “I’m going to give you everything I can.”

“You got big nose,” said Nathan, pointing at the pen marks he’d just added.

“I do, you’re right.” Kane rubbed his nose against Nathan’s cheek, making him shriek and laugh. “I’m giving you boogers,” he said, and Nathan turned, rubbed his own much smaller nose against Kane’s. He actually did have boogers crusted in his nostrils, ones he wouldn’t let Kane remove. It was gross, knowing they were there, but Kane laughed anyway.

“Boogers!” Nathan shouted.

“Ugh, now I have them!”

“You two are disgusting!” said Mrs Jones, coming into the room.

Nathan jumped down. “I get more glitter,” he said, running into the living room again.

“You have a budding artist in that one,” she said, smiling at Kane.

“I do.”

“Are you okay? You look tired.”

“I’m fine, just work stuff.”

“I can come up more often, you know, give you a break.”

“I might need to take you up on that. There are things I need to get on with. There’s the funeral to organise, and other work things.”

“Why don’t I come every day for an hour or two then you can work?”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“My own grandchildren are grown now. I miss a little one.”

“Okay, well that would be great, thank you.”

“No problem.” She looked around the room, her eyes alighting on the overflowing laundry basket. “You’re getting through a lot of laundry!”

“It’s not mine. It’s theirs, from before,” he said to her. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Do you want me to launder them?”

“Do you think that’s the right thing to do?”

“They can’t sit there forever.”

“I know.” He looked at the overflowing basket. What was he going to do with them like that? Nothing. They had to be dealt with. “Okay, just give me a minute, will you?”

He waited until she’d left the room then went over to the bed. He felt under the pillows, pulled out a nightgown from Emma’s side. Sinclair’s pyjamas were under the other pillow, the blue ones Kane remembered. He told himself not to do it, but he did anyway. He put the shirt to his nose, inhaled the scent. There was only a trace of something, a hint of cologne, that awful spice one he wore. It was him, though. It was Sinclair. He tucked the pyjamas back beneath the pillow, stood for a moment looking at the space he used to lay his head. Goddamn it.

“Here you go,” he said to Mrs Jones as he returned to the living room and handed her the bag of laundry.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“Thanks for looking after Nathan.”

“You’re welcome, son.”

When the old lady had gone, he picked up Nathan, twirled him round a few times. “Shall we go for a walk?”

“Yes, I want to go park.”

“Okay, we’ll go to the park.”

He manoeuvred the stroller one-handed while Nathan walked by his side. At the park he pushed the boy on the swings, higher and higher, enjoying his screams of laughter. He put him in the stroller on the way back, decided to test out his leg with a light jog. Nathan delighted in moving faster than usual along the sidewalk, but Kane paid for it later with an aching thigh.

He sat in the bath when Nathan was asleep, soaking his aches in hot water and some muscle relaxing bubbles he found on the side. He closed his eyes, slipped beneath the surface, stayed there as long as he could, until he emerged, gasping, soap in his eyes, the bitter taste of it in his mouth. He rinsed his face and mouth with a jug of fresh water. A plastic duck was on the side of the bath, and he dropped it in the bath water. He made gentle waves with his hands so it bobbed up and down amusingly. “You’re a big kid”, he said, laughing to himself.

\---

Abby lay awake into the early hours for the second night in a row. She was exhausted physically, her eyes heavy and tired, her limbs jumpy, but her mind refused to rest, kept turning like an endless cog. She thought about Jason, and how everything had started to unravel when they’d been trying for a baby with no success. It had been fun at first, exciting, added an extra layer of meaning to their lovemaking when she’d imagined that they were creating a new life. Then it had become stressful, every month a disappointment, her body letting them down. She’d hated that she felt that way about herself and her body’s natural processes. The sex they had became perfunctory, timed to perfection, and all life seemed to revolve around cycles and temperatures. It wasn’t even as if she’d been desperate for a baby before that. She’d considered it, thought about what it would be like, was excited to be trying, but it hadn’t driven her, it hadn’t been her reason for living, her goal in life. Then suddenly it was. It took over everything, including her and Jason.

Endless doctors’ appointments, her body examined intimately, talked about, mused over. Eating more healthily than she ever had, cutting out alcohol, getting as much sleep as possible. And the stress levels rose, and the more they rose the more the doctor said it would affect their chances, but it’s hard to reverse an exponential curve. It’s the old snowball rolling down a hill effect. It just grows larger and larger, becomes huge and unstoppable.

Then finally, an answer, which turned out to be no answer at all. Unexplained infertility. They could find no medical reason why either of them couldn’t have a child. It was worse to Abby than having a reason. A reason could be confronted. There were solutions, experiments, things to do, treatments, hope. When there’s no reason for something but it happens anyway, where’s the hope? There was nothing they could do, nothing SHE could do, and she wasn’t the kind of person who could accept doing nothing.

And so the IVF treatment. The house re-mortgaged and thirty thousand dollars on two unsuccessful rounds that were painful and left her body battered and exhausted. Jason blamed her, claiming he’d got a girlfriend before Abby pregnant in college and she’d had a termination. She didn’t know if that was true or not, or if he was using it as an excuse to save face by putting it all on her. It worked, made her feel guilty, made her sorry for him, made her turn a blind eye initially to some of his cruel taunts. He was lashing out that was all when he said there were things more important to him than her.

Nothing was more important to Abby than the people she loved and her career, certainly not a child that didn’t exist nor likely ever would. She could accept it for her, but not for him. Six months ago he’d walked out, blaming her again, leaving her - an intelligent woman with a successful career she’d worked hard for, a woman who’d loved him, supported him, paid for him, a woman who’d been happy and contented before this all started – leaving her a wreck on the floor, doubting herself, blaming herself, hating herself.

She’d picked herself up and she’d got on with her life because that’s what the Griffins had always done. That’s what her father had done when her mother died when Abby was a baby and he’d brought her up alone, and that’s what she’d done when she’d lost him five years ago to cancer.

Then the demands from Jason had started, wanting maintenance, asking about the house, moaning about how he was destitute even though she’d found out he’d been taken in by one of his more successful musician friends who had an apartment in Greenwich Village. The soft heart Indra said was her downfall hardened a little then.

She sighed, turned over, stared at the other wall. Indra didn’t think Jason really wanted a baby, but if he hadn’t, why had they been through all this? Why would he have left? They would have accepted their childless state, rejoiced in never having to use contraception again, and got on with a life they’d make rich in other ways. It was of course natural for the human species to want to procreate, and there was no reason why Jason should be any different to anyone else. No matter what Indra thought, a baby could have been his calling. Maybe being a dad was what he was meant to do. Gawwd. It was all so complicated.

She turned onto her back, flung off the covers because they felt oppressive, weighing down on her. Marcus Kane came to mind again, how he was with Nathan, how much of a rapport they’d built together in such a short time. They weren’t related biologically, but that didn’t matter. He already loved the boy deeply she could tell. Couldn’t Jason have loved an adopted child like Marcus did Nathan? He hadn’t even wanted to consider it.

She supposed the situations were different. Marcus had no choice, and the boy belonged to his friend, whom he’d also loved dearly. There was an existing bond even if it hadn’t been a strong one before now. An adopted child would be a complete stranger. That didn’t bother Abby; indeed the thought of providing a loving home for a child who hadn’t had a good start in life excited her almost as much as having one of her own. It would be more meaningful in some ways.

She could do it alone, she supposed, if she really wanted to, but that would mean giving up a lot. Was she prepared to do that? Did she want it badly enough? It was hard work, she only had to look at Marcus to know that.

Poor guy.

He’d been so devastated when she’d called him. She shouldn’t have done that really, but she knew from his text that he needed her, and it didn’t seem as though he had anyone else. That was a red flag, she realised that, and she’d have to be careful. It was bad practice to allow patients access to her outside of designated times, and not good for them potentially. He was so alone, though, so overwhelmed, and doing his best. It was impossible not to get involved more. At the end of the day, Nathan was her patient and his wellbeing depended on that of Marcus. He wasn’t going to attend any support groups or talk to anyone else that much was obvious. She was all he had. She’d have to incorporate counselling of him into her sessions in a way that he wouldn’t know, like hiding carrots in the bolognese.

She laughed at that image, pulled the covers back over herself and turned over. Three hours until she had to get up. Four if she skipped breakfast and a shower and put on yesterday’s clothes. She reached out, reset her alarm for eight, then closed her eyes, tried to force herself to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby enjoys a successful day. Nate makes a new friend and shares a sweet moment with Kane.

The bodies of Sinclair and Emma were released on the Thursday, sparking off a chain of actions and paperwork Kane thought he would drown in. He realised how much he’d put off over the last week, and that he could no longer ignore the calls and letters that were piling up unanswered and unopened.

A local funeral home had the remains, and Mrs Jones told him about a nearby church they sometimes frequented. Kane knew Sinclair wasn’t a religious man, but Emma had some lingering ties to her Anglican upbringing. He booked the church for the funeral the following Thursday. The vicar was coming round tomorrow to talk about the Sinclairs and the service and Kane was not looking forward to that one bit. He had to decide whether they were to be cremated or buried and while he was pretty sure Sinclair would prefer the former because of conversations they’d had in the past, he wasn’t sure about Emma.

He’d taken every folder and scrap of paperwork he could find out of the drawer in the TV cabinet and everything out of Sinclair’s desk drawers and it was all piled on the surface waiting for him to go through it. Mrs Jones was playing with Nathan in the living room so it was now or never. There was a folder with a hand-written label entitled Important Documents. Kane smiled as he looked at it. Of course Sinclair would be organised.

He scanned through everything in the folder quickly, putting aside anything he thought he might need at a later date like insurance documents, bank details, utilities information. The will was in an envelope with Will written neatly on the front. Kane opened it, unfolded the papers and started to read. It was clear and concise. He was named as executor of the estate. In the event all of them had died, he was the sole beneficiary. In the event Nathan survived then he was the beneficiary, and Kane was named as both legal and fiduciary guardian, in charge of looking after Nathan and managing the Sinclairs’ assets on his behalf until he turned eighteen.

So few words and yet so overwhelming. He recalled the day Sinclair asked him if he would be Nathan’s legal guardian as well as his godfather. Kane was here at their house, wetting the baby’s head with more than a few beers. Nathan must have been two or three day’s old, just a tiny thing in a basket with a soft down of dark hairs on his head and a pink face. Kane didn’t know what eye colour he had because his face seemed to be permanently screwed into a frown.

“I’m kind of wondering if he’s your kid, not mine,” Sinclair had joked, because out of the two of them he was always sunny and happy, and Kane was notoriously grumpy.

“He definitely has my attitude to life,” Kane had replied, at which point Nathan had started to cry and Sinclair had fixed Kane with a look that said the boy was definitely more like him.

They’d talked drunkenly about life and its meaning and the future Sinclair imagined for Nathan, his dream being that he would be a pitcher for the Yankees.

“Not if he inherits your throwing arm,” Kane had said.

“If he’s your kid he’ll be fine. You’re good at throwing things in temper.”

“Yes, but I always miss you.”

“Hopefully deliberately!”

Kane laughed at the memory. Most of their relationship had been one of banter and laughter. A lot of fun, a lot of good times. He’d relied on that when he was laid up in the hospital thinking he’d never walk properly again, Sinclair’s daily teasing and mocking the only good thing about that time. There were serious times too, though not many. It was during a moment of serious reflection about the future that Sinclair had mentioned the guardianship.

“If anything happens to us I don’t want Nate brought up by a stranger. I don’t want him in some kids’ home just a number. I want him to be loved and cared for. You’re my other half, more so in a lot of ways than Emma. If you had him I’d feel like it was still me, like he’d still have part of his dad.”

Kane felt tears gathering in his eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fall, determined to get through this without giving into his emotions because if he started to really think about what he’d lost, what Nathan had lost, he would never survive.

He’d made some joke in response, something about how a kid would ruin his man about town image, which Sinclair had found hilarious. He’d agreed to the guardianship, because he was touched to be asked, and he never, ever, ever for even a fraction of a second thought he would have to do it. It was easy to agree to something you didn’t think would happen. He’d forgotten all about it until that night in the hospital. Now, the meaning of it was clearer than ever. For the rest of his life he was Nathan’s dad. He had to provide for him, care for him, teach him the values Sinclair and Emma would have wanted him to have, take him to baseball games, practice his pitching, tell him about girls or boys if that was his thing, guide him, lift him, love him.

It was a big consequence of a drunken agreement, but he would have done it anyway. Sinclair had been right. His son should not be raised by strangers, but by someone who knew him and loved him, and who better than the man who’d been by his side since they were not much older than Nate was now, the man who knew him better than anyone. It was his responsibility, and he wouldn’t do it out of obligation but out of love.

He opened his laptop and searched for the duties of a fiduciary guardian, which hadn’t been discussed with Sinclair but it made sense that he should be in control of the money if he was bringing Nathan up, and he couldn’t afford what the boy needed by himself. He couldn’t figure out if he was supposed to notify someone of this status. There must surely be legal documents to prepare, things to sign. He’d ask the lawyer they retained for the business. There were probably insurance and death in service things to sort out anyway. One of the missed calls was from him.

He put the folder and the will aside, looked at the mail. It contained cards of condolence from their many friends and some distant relatives. Kane wasn’t sure how they all knew about the deaths because he’d been neglectful in finding out who he should inform. He simply hadn’t been able to face it. Doctor Abby would say he was in denial that they’d died, he supposed, and it was probably true. He still didn’t want to believe it, but it was wishful thinking, and that was never something to rely upon. He guessed people had read about it in the news or heard it through the tried and trusted grapevine.

There were also bills that needed paying, information from various insurance companies, bank statements. He’d have to call the bank, see if he could get a loan to see him through to any insurance payouts. The vicar had told him the funeral could cost between $5,000 and $10,000 depending on hire of a venue for the wake and catering and a hundred other things no one should have to deal with at times like this. Kane was still paying the rent and utilities on his apartment. His food bills had shot up and he’d spent most of his meagre savings on essentials for Nathan. He had no income if he wasn’t working. He figured he could last another two weeks on the money he had left and then he’d be broke.

His first job should be to call the lawyer, find out what he had to do regarding executing the estate and his fiduciary duties, hope the man would be happy to advise now and be paid later. He picked up his phone.

\---

Abby’s last client of the day was a special one. A nine-year-old girl, Holly, who had been knocked down by a car a few months before and who’d suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, manifesting itself in flashbacks, nightmares and a subsequent sleep disorder. She was one of Abby’s first patients on the program, and this was her final session. She came with her mom, Barbra, and Abby had got to know them well over the last six months.

“So, I heard something about you,” she said when the session was coming to a close.

“What?” Holly replied, her blue eyes curious.

“I heard that you were picked for the swim team and that you won your first race yesterday.”

“I did! It was really hard, like I was so out of breath by the end I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

“But you did! I think that’s amazing. Did you get anything for winning?”

“A trophy! It’s gold and everything. Mom has a picture. Show Abby, mom.”

Barbra got out her phone, showed the photo to Abby. “They placed first in the relay. She swam butterfly,” she said, proudly.

“That’s a great picture, Holly. I used to swim a lot when I was your age. I never won any trophies though. You’re a star.”

Holly beamed with pleasure. “Why don’t you swim anymore?”

“You know what, I don’t know. Maybe I should take it up again.”

“You should. It’s fun.”

Abby sat back and smiled. Holly was a success story, although the next few months without Abby’s intensive therapy sessions would determine just how much of a corner she’d turned. She’d responded most to talking and exercise as therapy and it was pleasing to see her getting rewarded for her achievements.

“You know this was our last session and that we won’t see each other regularly again,” she said, leaning towards Holly.

“I know. I’m sad about that,” she said, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“I’m sad too. We’ve been through some things together these last few months, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling today apart from sad?”

“I guess I’m happy mostly.”

“Happy mostly is a good thing to be, but you know it’s okay whatever feelings you have and you can talk to your mom about anything.”

“That’s right,” said Barbra.

“I know.”

“Have the guys from the buddy program been in touch?”

“Yes. One of them came to the swim competition with her parents and we met them, a young girl Holly’s age,” said Barbra.

“Oh, that’s great. The buddies know what it’s like to go through things like you have and they’re someone to talk to if you don’t want to talk to mom or anyone else.”

“I liked her. She doesn’t like swimming but she said she liked Shawn Mendes and I love him. Mom’s going to let me go to his concert next year.”

“Well, now hang on. I only said I’d think about it.”

“Yeah, but you will, though.” Holly smiled at her mom and Abby with the confidence of a kid who knew she would get what she wanted. Barbra rolled her eyes at Abby.

“I think that’s the end of our last session, then, and I want to thank you for coming to the program. I know it’s been hard, but we had some fun as well didn’t we?”

“Patient paintball was super fun!”

“It was! And speaking of super fun, we have a Halloween event here on the day itself if you want to come along to that. Fancy dress is not optional. The sillier the better.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome. What are you coming as?”

“I’m not going to tell you that. You’ll have to wait and see.” Abby winked at Holly, then she stood. “So maybe I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” Holly flung her arms around Abby, gave her a strong hug for someone so small and slight. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Yes, thanks Abby,” said Barbra. “This program has been a lifeline and you’ve just been so wonderful.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll be emailing you the final questionnaire and paperwork in the next couple of days and if you can fill that out at your convenience that would be great.”

“We will. Oh, we have something for you!” She took something out of her bag, gave it to Holly who gave it to Abby. It was a variety box of Cadbury chocolate.

“Those are my favourites; how did you know?”

“I just guessed!” said Holly.

“Yeah? Wow. Can you guess this week’s lotto numbers as well?”

“I can try.”

“If only!” said Barbra.

“If we won the lotto, we could fund this program all over America,” said Abby.

“I was thinking more yacht and Caribbean island hideaway, but now you’ve made me feel guilty,” said Barbra with a wry smile.

“Oh, I would get those as well.”

She hugged Barbra and Holly and waved as they headed down the corridor. She always had mixed emotions when the kids finished the program, not that there’d been too many as she was only seven months in. She’d had three completers including Holly.

She returned to her room, picked up her belongings and the chocolates and rushed down two flights of stairs to the meeting room on the ground floor of the hospital. There was a committee meeting for the Halloween event and she was already five minutes late.

\---

Kane’s meeting with the vicar was one of the most difficult hours he’d ever spent in his life. The man had wanted to know facts about Sinclair and Emma for his address and Kane had told him as much as he could. He knew every milestone in Sinclair’s life but less about Emma. When the vicar had gone he’d rung a couple of women from an address book they kept in the TV cabinet, hoping they were friends of Emma’s which they turned out to be. They were going to contact the vicar with her information. It had been painful seeing Sinclair’s life laid out so starkly, like plot points on a graph of a lifespan, one that stopped way, way, way too short.

It had hit Kane as he was talking to the vicar that there would never be new points on the graph. No fortieth birthday or fiftieth, no special wedding anniversaries, no more children, no first day dropping Nathan off at school, no watching him grow, no eighteenth birthday, no wedding to cry over, no grandchild. All those things that people saw as milestones in life would never be achieved. It was over for Sinclair and Emma. Those would be points on Kane’s graph now, assuming nothing befell him. He hadn’t expected any of them except the birthdays. Had thought little of the future except expanding the business.

All the practical details for the funeral were now dealt with or in motion, except for one job which he was dreading. He had to write a eulogy for Sinclair, but in between those plots on the graph was a wealth of life lived. How did he take all the things that were the essence of Sinclair, all the stories of his life and condense them into a short speech?

He was too drained from the meeting with the vicar to think about it there and then. A change of scene was needed.

“Do you want to go out to get some food, Nate?” he said to the boy who was pushing toy cars around the floor making vroom vroom noises.

“Yeah!” he said, immediately ditching the toys and getting to his feet.

“Where do you want to go?”

“McDonalds!”

Kane groaned internally. “McDonalds? Wouldn’t you prefer KFC?”

Nathan shook his head. “Want toy.”

“That’s all you ever want! Okay, McDonalds it is!”

“Wooo!”

Nathan ran around the room in his excitement and it was all Kane could do to catch him so he could take him for a pee and then he struggled to get him into his coat because the boy was jumping too much and it was hard enough squeezing his plastered arm into the narrow sleeve. When he was finally properly attired, Kane googled the nearest McDonalds. There was one a fifteen-minute walk away the other side of the park on Union Turnpike.

He put Nathan in the stroller, set off beneath a pale blue sky. The leaves were starting to turn, golden yellow ones laying amongst the green of the grass verges. That reminded him he hadn’t started reading that book with Nathan yet, the one Abby had given him about Freddie the leaf. He’d found it too hard to contemplate so far, but the time had come for the hard things he supposed.

The walk was through streets each exactly the same as the other. If you were drunk and coming home late at night you’d never be able to find your own house. He wondered how many people burst accidentally into the wrong home.

The McDonalds was in a unit near the end of a row of shops that included a Walgreens pharmacy and a Dunkin’ Donuts, which Kane figured were handy to have nearby. As soon as they were inside, Nathan clamoured to be let out of the stroller and the second he was free he ran over to a small play area with tubes and climbing frames.

“Nate!” shouted Kane, running after him, the stroller abandoned in the doorway.

“I wanna play!”

“We have to order food first,” said Kane, grabbing his hand.

“No!” pouted Nathan, trying to wriggle from Kane’s grasp.

“I thought you wanted some food and a toy.”

“I wanna play first.”

“You can play when we’ve ordered.”

There then followed a battle of wills Kane was determined to win. He stood his ground through various face pulls and pouts and whines and eventually Nathan gave in long enough for them to rescue the stroller and go to the counter to join a long line. Kane ordered him a chicken nuggets Happy Meal and forced himself to have a cheeseburger and fries. He blamed Sinclair for this situation. He was the one who preferred McDonalds to the far superior KFC. Clearly, he’d passed this deficiency onto his son.

There was no preventing Nathan from going on the play equipment after they’d ordered so Kane hovered nearby, watching him hawk-like while he crawled through the tunnels and climbed one-handed up small ladders before throwing himself down chutes.

“Be careful of your arm!” he said, but was ignored.

“Hard letting them go, isn’t it?” said a male voice from behind him. Kane turned to see a man about his age, Asian-American, tattoos on his muscular lower arms.

“He has a broken arm, so you know, I don’t want him hurting himself.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Car accident.”

The man nodded, thankfully didn’t probe further. “That’s mine, there,” he said, pointing to a kid around Nathan’s age with short black hair. “He only wants to come here for the play area and a plastic toy.”

“Nate’s the same.”

“Yeah, I saw him make a beeline for here. You did well getting him away. Frankie’s stubborn as they come.”

Kane’s order was called and he got up, approached a tube Nathan was inside with Frankie. “Nate, we have to go get our food.” There was no answer.

“You can leave him here while you get it if you want. I’ll watch him,” said the man.

“Oh, no, thanks all the same but I’ll take him with me.” He stuck his head in the tube, gave Nathan a look he hoped the kid wouldn’t be able to refuse. “Come and get your food and your toy,” he said.

That did the trick and Nathan came out. They collected the food, found a table near the window and sat next to each other. Kane made sure Nathan was on the inside near a divider so he couldn’t get out and escape to the play area.

“This one flies,” said Nathan, picking up his toy.

“That’s Falcon,” said Kane, who was well versed in all things superhero having been brought up on Batman as a matter of course living in the real life equivalent of Gotham City.

“Whoosh!” said Nathan, making him fly over their trays of food.

“Don’t forget to eat.” Kane set out Nathan’s food so it was more accessible, squeezed ketchup on the fries container and then his heart suddenly constricted and he saw Sinclair doing the same thing countless times when they were sitting in the car on stake outs. He grabbed his Coke, took a long sip to wash away the sick feeling that accompanied the memory.

“The fries are good,” he said, somehow managing to talk even though his tongue felt thick and seemed to take up half his mouth.

“Yeah,” replied Nathan, stuffing a handful into his mouth, his fingers coming away still covered in ketchup. “Sometimes daddy steal em.”

“Does, did he?”

Nathan nodded. “You steal?”

“No, I won’t steal them.”

“Oh.” Nathan’s shoulders drooped and he seemed disappointed in Kane’s answer.

Kane studied him for a moment, debating what the child really wanted. He took a gamble, leaned across and snatched a few fries. “Fooled you!” he said, and Nathan squealed.

“Bad!” he said, thumping Kane on the arm and then covering his food with his arms. “None for you.”

Kane chewed on the fries with a smug look on his face and Nathan looked up at him with a shy smile.

“McDonalds was your daddy’s favourite food. When we were working together he would always try to find a McDonalds even though he knew I liked KFC.”

“Did he get toy?”

“You only get a toy with a special meal like you’ve got. What do you think daddy’s favourite toy was?”

Nathan chewed on a piece of chicken while he thought. “Spiderman.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. When we were boys we used to play Batman versus Spiderman. He would try to catch me with his web, but I always escaped cause I could fly away.”

“How fly away?” Nathan said, looking at Kane wide-eyed.

“On my magic wings,” Kane whispered.

“Like Falcon?”

“Yes.”

Nathan picked the toy up with sticky tomato fingers and flew him in the air, dive bombing his food and Kane’s burger, leaving a tomato trail on Kane’s sleeve when he landed there and used it as a runway.

After the meal they returned to the play area. “Five minutes,” said Kane, tapping his watch, but Nathan wasn’t looking at him.

The man from earlier came over with his son who joined Nathan on the equipment. The man gestured to the seat opposite Kane who nodded his assent.

“You a single dad too or are you giving the wife a break?” the man said.

“Single dad,” he replied, the words sounding odd coming out of him. He’d been defined by this new status a few times over the last couple of weeks by complete strangers and it felt weird, like it conveyed a whole narrative about him that wasn’t true but was presupposed. Also, being a dad was still a novel concept.

“We do this every Saturday. I’m Ben by the way, Ben Shumway.”

“Marcus Kane. That’s Nate.”

“Not easy raising ‘em alone, is it?”

“No.”

“My wife walked out when Frankie was two. Met some other guy.”

“Oh, wow, sorry,” said Kane.

“S’alright. It was eighteen months ago now, so I’m used to it.” His laugher had a slight edge of bitterness to it despite his words.

“I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.”

“No one does. What happened to your wife if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, erm, well I never actually had a wife. Nate’s not my kid, he’s my friends’, but they died so I’m his legal guardian.”

“Oh, fuck, really? God, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“When was this?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

“Two weeks? Jesus, man!”

“Yeah, I’m not used to it yet.” He laughed.

“God, no. Wow, that’s pretty cool, though, man. Good on ya.”

Kane shrugged, not sure what to say.

“Wow.” The man stared at Kane for a moment, then looked across to where Nate and Frankie were playing. “I wouldn’t have known. You must be doing a good job.”

“Thanks. If you have any tips, you know...”

“Oh, yeah, loads.” Ben chuckled. “I’ve been through it all. You know, we’re here every Saturday.”

“Well, I just, erm, I just came out today cause I needed a change of scenery.”

“Oh, God, yeah. You have to get out. Can’t stay cooped in with all your thoughts and a toddler. Drive you insane.”

“Yeah.” Kane stood, shouted Nathan.

“You know where we are,” said Ben, as Kane scooped an unhappy Nathan into his arms.

“I do, yeah, thanks, man.”

“No, problem. Say bye to Nate and Marcus, Frankie.”

“Bye!” said a bright-eyed Frankie.

“Bye,” said Nathan, waving over Kane’s shoulder as he grabbed the stroller and went outside.

Kane put the boy on the ground, figured walking back would tire him out enough for his nap.

“Did you enjoy playing with Frankie?”

“Yeah. He got tree!”

“That’s Groot.”

“Falcon better,” he said. “Where he?”

“He’s in my pocket, don’t worry.”

“’Kay.”

They walked back hand in hand. Kane was glad he’d taken Nathan out for the meal. It had been enjoyable and somehow easier to talk to him away from the house. He supposed there was nothing else taking his attention away from the boy, so he could really focus on him. He must do that more, talk about Sinclair more, listen to him more. That Ben guy did it every Saturday with his son. Maybe he should make it a thing for him and Nathan as well. Saturday out, lunch and a walk, maybe a trip to the swings in the park. It would be nice.

\---

Later that night, Kane was lying in the bed facing away from Nathan waiting to make sure he was asleep when he felt a small hand creep beneath his t-shirt and move up his back.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Lookin’ for your wings.”

“Oh.” The smile that grew on Kane’s face was so large it made his cheeks hurt. He suppressed it, turned slowly to face the boy. “I lost them once I grew up.”

“Will I get wings?” Nathan said, disappointment on his face.

“We don’t know what your superpower will be yet.”

“I wanna fly too like you and Buzz. Finty ‘n’ byond!”

“We’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

“Yeah.” He clutched monkey tighter, turned away from Kane.

“Go to sleep.”

“’Kay.”

Kane lay in the bed listening to the child’s steady breathing and puffy sighs. His heart was currently a place where overwhelming sadness and great joy were existing at the same time and it was somehow managing to contain both. Nathan looking for his wings had been an amazing feeling, like a shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom. He had to grab onto it, hold it close in the days ahead which were going to be hard and painful.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby gets some upsetting news, so a session with Marcus and Nate is a welcome distraction

Abby arrived home late on the Monday having been to another committee meeting about the Halloween event at the hospital. As she’d predicted, Doctor Bhatia had huffed and puffed so much about his workload and how little time he had that she’d given in and agreed to take on some of his tasks. She was now in charge of decorations for the wards as well as all the activities. She was going to have to find someone to delegate some of it to because handling that and all her patients was starting to become too much. She should have kept quiet like the other doctors had, but the silence had been too painful, and she’d had to fill it.

She picked up the mail from the doormat, headed to the kitchen, dropping her bag and her keys on the small wooden table in the centre. A glass of wine was tempting, but she switched on the coffee machine instead, looked in the fridge. There was some leftover kung pao chicken so she stuck it in the microwave, stood watching it slowly turn.

Her biggest problem was that she had a need to please, or rather not to let other people down. It wasn’t that she wanted to please Doctor Bhatia or any of the others on the committee, more that she wanted the children and patients to have a wonderful time and couldn’t bear the thought that they would get a substandard experience just because no one wanted to put in the time and the work.

The coffee machine gurgled and the microwave pinged at the same time. She poured a coffee first, then got the food, sat at one end of the table and started to eat. She was looking through the mail which was mainly junk and utility bills when there was a knock at the door. She contemplated not answering as she wasn’t expecting anyone and it would probably be a salesman, but instead she got up with a sigh and went to the door.

A man in a dark grey suit was standing there. “Abigail Griffin?” he said.

“Yes,” replied Abby cautiously.

The man held out a large manilla envelope. “You’ve been served ma’am. Have a good day.”

Abby stared at him. “What do you mean, I’ve been served? By whom? What is this?”

“Please take the envelope, ma’am.”

Abby took it because there was nothing else she could do. She watched the man head back down the short path to the road and get in a black sedan. She went back into the house, back to the kitchen table, cleared her half empty plate to one side and put the envelope in front of her. She stared at it for a moment as though the contents would magically reveal themselves to her, and then opened it, pulling out a bundle of papers.

The top one was a summons and was titled Action for a Divorce. Abby read it through in disbelief. Jason had issued a notice for her to appear to dissolve their marriage. He wanted a share of the marital home and was seeking maintenance. He’d ticked irretrievable breakdown in relationship as the grounds for the divorce. There were other papers, but it wasn’t until she read the one that she was supposed to complete that the full gravity of what was happening hit her. It was titled Affidavit of the Defendant and she was expected to admit the grounds for the divorce and agree the complaint without question. The action would then be placed on the uncontested divorce calendar of the New York court system.

Uncontested divorce! What the hell? In what universe did Jason think he could just divorce her and get everything he wanted without her doing anything about it? The back page of the affidavit had instructions for the defendant, i.e. her. If she didn’t agree to the divorce she should speak to a lawyer. Damn straight she would! She picked up her coffee because her mouth and throat had gone dry, was shaking so much she had to put it down again. Goddamn Jason! Damn him to hell!

She got up, paced the room thinking, went into the hallway and noticed the light was blinking on the answer machine. She pressed it with trepidation, heard his stupid voice as she’d known she would.

“Erm, Abby, it’s me, it’s Jason. So, listen, you’re going to get a visit, something important and erm, well you may already have I don’t know. Anyway, you’re gonna have some questions obviously, but I think it’s best we keep all communications through our lawyers. Well, that’s what my lawyer says. I hope you won’t make things difficult, Abby. It’s for the best, you know it is. Let’s just move on, yeah?”

Abby picked up the phone and machine, threw it against the kitchen door, the cable ripping out of the wall and spinning through the air after it. She grabbed a baseball bat that was always near the door for emergencies - HIS baseball bat - and beat the remains of the machine into tiny splinters of plastic, screaming at it, calling it all the names she could think of. It made her feel better, briefly.

She collapsed on the sofa afterwards, physically spent as though she’d run a marathon. “You bastard!” she whispered hoarsely. “Fuck you!” She had no idea how long she lay there, thinking back over their relationship, trying to remember what she’d ever seen in him. Her cell phone rang and she snatched it up without looking at it.

“What?” she growled.

“You okay?” said a familiar voice, and Abby’s relief at hearing someone who loved her and cared for her without an agenda made her cry.

“Indra!” she sobbed.

“Oh, my God! What’s happened?”

“Jason. He wants a divorce.”

“That bastard! He doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“He wants it uncontested. He wants most of everything I have.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I got served tonight.” Abby was calming down now that she was talking to Indra. She wiped her tears away, determined they would be the last she was going to cry over her soon-to-be-ex-husband.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. The papers he’s sent expect me to just sign and accept it without a word.”

“Well that’s not fucking happening!”

“I know!”

“Get a divorce lawyer, Abby, first thing tomorrow.”

“I will. He’s not having this house or any part of it. This was my dad’s money. He hasn’t contributed anything to it, not a penny.”

“No, and a lawyer will help you prove that. God, I wanna say I can’t believe this but unfortunately I can.”

“You were right about him.”

“That doesn’t give me any pleasure.”

“I know it doesn’t. Can you come down here soon? I need to get drunk with you.”

“I will. Yes. I will clear something from my schedule absolutely. I’ll try for this weekend if I can.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Okay. Speaking of disgusting human beings, I’ve got the most fascinating case to tell you about. Dead body I received the other day from Hartford County because it had stumped their ME. Want to hear about it?”

“You know I do,” said Abby, settling onto the sofa. She pulled a blanket over her. It wasn’t cold in the house, but she felt the need for comfort, and Indra’s stories often left her chilled to the bone. They were just what she needed right now to take her mind off everything that had happened.

\---

Tuesday morning found Kane back in his old neighbourhood visiting Charles Pike, the lawyer he used for Kane Investigations. The office was the next block along from Kane’s, and he was sitting in the small waiting room with Nathan on his knee.

“Marcus,” said Charles Pike as he hurried in from the street. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Pike was a well-built black man, with a shiny bald head. He was short but broad and muscled, like a halfback on a football team. He was bullish in court too, the kind of lawyer you wanted on your side, not against you. He’d been the firm’s lawyer for three years now.

“No problem,” said Kane.

“Go through to my office. Can I get you a coffee?”

“Yes, that would be great. Just a drop of milk.”

“Anything for the boy?”

“No, I’ve got him covered.”

Kane carried a lethargic Nathan into Pike’s office. The child had woken up in the night screaming, having had a nightmare which was made worse by the fact that he found himself alone in the bed. Kane had been working in the living room, had rushed in and tried to comfort Nathan who wasn’t impressed at being abandoned by him, and pushed him away at first. He’d relented in the end, allowing Kane to hold him, and then Kane had no choice but to get into bed with him and stay there, not wanting to risk Nathan waking again and feeling abandoned a second time in one night.

He’d lain awake until he knew not what time having no phone or clock with him and not daring to get out of bed and get one. Consequently, they were both tired and subdued. They were seeing Doctor Abby that afternoon so Kane was planning on a nap for both of them when they got back to Glen Oaks so they’d be more alert for their therapy session.

Pike returned and handed Kane a coffee which he put on the battered desk in front of him. Pike’s office was similar to that of Kane Investigations in that it didn’t look auspicious, but a lot of good stuff and hard work went on behind the scenes.

“I was devastated to hear about Jacapo, Marcus,” said Pike.

“Yeah, thanks. It was, erm, it’s been tough.”

“I bet. How’s the young man doing?”

“Okay given the circumstances. He’s under the care of an excellent child psychologist, so, you know, we’re trundling along.”

“It’s marvellous what you’re doing, truly is.”

“Thanks. So, have you got any news for me?”

“Yes. As I said when we talked the other day, I’m not an expert in family law, and I’d really advise you to get a lawyer who knows exactly what they’re doing.”

“I don’t want anyone new. I don’t have the mind space or the capacity for the stress of even looking for someone. I trust you. I know you’ll do your best for us.”

“I appreciate that a lot, and of course I will. There’s a lot we need to do, but I’m confident it will be straightforward because the wishes of the parents were clear and you’ve been approved by the social worker. We can start now if you want. There’s some paperwork to complete and file with the courts.”

“Yes. Let’s get the ball rolling. I wanted to talk to you about money as well. I’m seriously short of cash, and I’m running two households and paying for Nate. I don’t think I can last another week without having to get a loan or something.”

“Can you get out of the lease on your apartment?”

“Not without a penalty. It’s a few months before the renewal.” Kane wasn’t at all sure he was ready to give up his apartment so quickly. It had only been a couple of weeks, and he still thought of it as his place, and the house he was currently living in as Sinclair’s. It seemed so final, but he couldn’t afford to pay for two houses, and it was clear that Nathan couldn’t move to his apartment. He was comfortable in his home, felt secure there. Kane could never tear him away from that.

“The death in service insurance is pretty straightforward. I’ve already filed that paperwork with the company, so the payout should be forthcoming. Some of it will go to Sinclair’s estate which will eventually be available to you on behalf of Nathan, but there’s an amount available for the business for loss of earnings. As the owner of Kane International you can use that to increase your salary and cover the increased outgoings.”

“That would be great.”

“In the meantime, I can draft you a letter which you can take to the bank if you need to get a short-term loan.”

“Thanks, Charles.”

“No problem. Let’s get on with this paperwork for the courts and the Sinclairs’ insurance companies. The sooner we get it filed, the sooner we can get you on your feet.”

After the meeting with Pike, Kane went to his office, picked up the mail and listened to the voicemails on the office phone. He redirected all calls to his cell and then went downstairs. Mrs Roseman was mopping up a spill in the canned goods aisle.

“Mr Kane! How are you and the bubbeleh?” she said, putting down her mop and giving a startled Nathan a wet kiss on the cheek which she then rubbed away with her thumb.

“We’re fine, thanks. I brought your lunchbox back.” He reached into his supplies bag, brought out the plastic container.

“Oh, thank you. Did you enjoy it?”

“I did, it was delicious.”

“I have more for you, I said I would. Wait there.” She disappeared into the back of the store and returned a moment later with a small freezer bag, which she handed to Kane. “There’s a few things in there for you and the boy.”

“That’s very kind,” said Kane, peering into the bag. There were at last five containers with varying contents.

“You put them in the freezer when you get home and they’ll keep you going.”

“It really is very kind,” said Kane, moved by her caring and generosity.

“I can make more. You tell me what you like best, I’ll make it for you.”

Kane gave her a kiss on the cheek, found himself pulled into a tight hug.

“Can I ask you to forward any mail to this address?” he said when she released him, handing her a slip of paper and a few dollar bills.

“I don’t need the money.”

“No, please. I’ll feel better if you take it.”

“Are you not coming back here to work?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but Nathan needs stability, so I think for now I’m going to work from home.”

“I’ll send you what you need, don’t you worry.” She winked at him, and Kane suspected he was going to get a steady stream of meals delivered, which he certainly wouldn’t complain about.

“Thank you. I’ll have a chocolate rugelach for Nathan, please.” He insisted on paying for the treat, and Nathan ate it while they walked to Kane’s apartment.

It was strange coming back, as though it was already a part of his past. He still had so much here, but very little of it seemed necessary. He packed some DVDs and a few more clothes, went through his mail which was mostly junk. Nathan perked up from the chocolate, ran around the apartment a few times, insisted on playing hide and seek with Kane. He found him under the bed every time but pretended he was surprised.

“We’d better go,” he said after the fifth time of searching. “We need to nap and get ready for Doctor Abby.”

“I’m gonna draw,” said Nathan.

“You are. Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Okay, let’s go.”

\---

Abby spent the morning on the phone with various lawyers until she found one she felt comfortable with, a tough-sounding woman called Collette Byrne.

“You have twenty days to file a response,” she said to Abby, “so there’s no need to rush. Let’s make him sweat.”

Abby liked the sound of that. “He only wants to communicate through lawyers.”

“That’s the most sensible thing he’s said so far. What I want you to think about over the next couple of weeks is what exactly YOU want. Do you want a divorce?”

It was a blunt question and one which Abby had lain awake most of the night thinking about. “I’m not contesting that we should divorce, or that the relationship has broken down irretrievably. That much seems obvious. I don’t want him to take my house. I bought it with my inheritance from my dad, and he hasn’t contributed to it. I was always happy to be the major financial provider, but he can’t take this away from me. It’s not fair.”

“I agree it’s not fair. He wasn’t named on the original mortgage or deeds and not on the subsequent lien you took out against the house for the medical procedures. There’s no evidence he contributed financially, but New York law considers it a joint asset and it will be a tough argument to make, but don’t worry about that just now. Our first job is to respond and take it from there.”

They agreed that they would wait until the day before the deadline for the lawyer to file the paperwork which Abby would complete and send to her. It was devastating that the biggest relationship of her life beside the one with her father was ending in this way, but she was determined now. Jason’s blasé attitude to the divorce and to her feelings had hardened her heart.

The traffic was heavy and she made it to Queen’s Medical Centre with only five minutes to spare before her session with Marcus and Nathan. They were waiting for her outside her office, flying action figures at each other.

“Hi! Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t. We just got here.” Marcus smiled warmly at her and Abby’s heart lifted at the sight of him and Nathan.

“Come in, let’s get settled.”

“We’ve been looking forward to seeing you, haven’t we Nate?” said Marcus as he sat on the sofa with Nathan on his knee. The boy nodded, looking at Abby with his wide green eyes, thumb in mouth.

“That’s nice,” she replied, a lump rising to her throat. At this point, every expression of kindness towards her was making her emotional. A girl crossing the street in front of her on her way here had waved for no reason and Abby had choked up. “How have you both been?”

“Good and bad,” said Marcus like he did every time.

“Let’s start with the good. What’s made you smile this week?”

“We went to McDonalds on Saturday and had a nice time.”

“I got Falcon!” said Nathan, showing Abby a small toy man wearing goggles.

“He’s cool. What does he do?”

“He flies.” Nathan demonstrated Falcon’s ability by zooming him in the air.

“He looks like he’s an excellent flier.”

“Yeah. I’m gon fly too. Marcus says.”

“Does he?” Abby looked at Marcus amused. He smiled shyly.

“I said we don’t know what your superpower will be yet.”

“Yeah but I fly like you.”

Marcus ruffled Nathan’s hair, smiled at Abby, lowered his voice. “I made a joke about having magic wings when I used to play with his dad, you know like when we were kids, and he took me seriously. That night when I thought he was asleep I felt him touching my back and he was looking for my wings. It was the cutest thing.” He looked down at Nathan’s dark head, pressed a kiss to it.

It was obvious to Abby that in the week since she’d last seen them their bond had deepened. Marcus seemed more relaxed and confident, looked at Nathan the way new parents looked at their babies, besotted, amazed at everything they did.

“That is adorable, and that shows a high level of trust in you, Marcus. You’re clearly doing a wonderful job with Nathan.

“Thanks.”

“You say you thought he was asleep. Are you still having to be with him when he falls asleep and when he wakes?”

“Yes, and last night he had a nightmare, and he wasn’t happy to find me gone when he woke, so I got in bed with him and then I had to stay there. I was too scared to leave even for a pee in case he woke. I didn’t want him to feel abandoned twice.”

“Had anything happened earlier that you think might have triggered a nightmare?”

“No. We had a nice weekend. He made a new friend at McDonalds – a kid about his age who was there with his dad. They’re there every Saturday so we might go back, I don’t know. Sunday we went to the park and he rode his bike there. I gave him a lot of attention.”

“That’s great about the friend. Having someone his own age to play with will be beneficial to him. What was the father like?”

“Seemed okay. Single dad like me.”

Abby was pleased to hear that he’d met someone in a similar situation to himself. A man as reticent and self-contained as Marcus was unlikely to attend one of the support groups she’d recommended, but a friend or acquaintance with the same experiences could be just as effective. She wasn’t going to say that directly to him, though, because she suspected it would make him run in the opposite direction.

“Like I said, it would be good for Nate to have a chance to play with someone his own age while still under your supervision. Maybe it would be a good idea to go there again if this guy and his kid seem okay.”

“Yeah. His wife left him, so it’s not the same as my situation, but he said he’d been through it all, had a lot of tips.”

“I bet he has. I don’t think you’ll find many people in your situation, Marcus. You’re pretty unique.”

“That has been said to me before, doc,” he replied with a smirk and a raise of his eyebrows. Abby couldn’t help but smile in response.

“The nightmares are not unexpected. His subconscious is remembering the accident and processing it.”

“Am I going to have to stay with him all night though, doc? Because that’s when I try to do some work and get things done in the house. I can’t just lie in bed with him for twelve hours.”

“No. I don’t think you need to do that. As long as you’re nearby when he needs you he’ll soon grow to trust that.”

“Good, because I have so little time as it is. I don’t know where it all goes.”

“Children are black holes when it comes to your time. So, what else good and bad has happened?”

She listened while he told her about going through his friend’s things and having to plan the funeral. He spoke matter-of-factly, but these were events that had obviously caused him great pain. She could still hear him sobbing over the phone when he’d picked up the effects, found the wallet.

“So, the funeral is on Thursday, and I still haven’t written my eulogy. I have to do something,” he concluded, looking at her exasperatedly.

“If you’re struggling, then imagine you’re talking to one person, like, say, you’re telling me about Sinclair whom I didn’t know. What would be the things you’d want me to understand most about him? Pretend you’re talking to me and write the conversation down.”

“Okay, yeah, I can try that.”

“Where is the funeral?”

“It’s at the Presbyterian church on Lakeville at eleven.”

“Are you taking Nathan?”

“Yes, I was planning to. Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“No. I doubt he’ll understand what’s going on but he will probably pick up on the mood and that might be upsetting. I’d advise having someone with you who can take him out if necessary.”

“Grace Jones will help. She’s our downstairs neighbour.”

“Grace Jones the singer lives downstairs from you?” said Abby with a laugh.

“That was my reaction. Let’s just say if she is Grace Jones she hasn’t aged well.” He grinned broadly. There was something infectious about his smile. He didn’t do it often, but when he did it lit up his face and his dark eyes, gave her a glimpse of the mischievous man who lay beneath the pain, the man who’d been a loyal and entertaining friend to Nathan’s parents.

“Shall we do some drawing? Would you like that, Nate?” she said, turning her attention to her other patient.

“Yes!” he said, flinging himself off Marcus’s knee and running over to the table. He couldn’t climb onto the chair with only one arm, so he waited impatiently for Marcus to lift him and get him settled. Marcus sat next to him, notebook at the ready as always.

“So, Nate, I was wondering if you could draw me something that makes you feel happy.”

He used coloured pens for his drawing, which he said on close questioning was him flying to the moon.

“I think that’s a song,” said Marcus.

“Let me play among the stars,” said Abby.

“I can’t remember the next line. Something about Jupiter and Mars.”

“What’s joopter?” said Nathan.

“It’s one of the planets in the sky, like a big star,” said Marcus.

“Can we fly there?”

“One day, maybe. You’ll have to grow up to be an astronaut like Buzz and then design a rocket to take you there.”

Nathan added some scribbles to his drawing. “Like this,” he said showing it to Marcus. It was just a mess of lines.

“Exactly like that.”

Abby watched them, her heart which had felt so sad and tired that morning suddenly full and warm. It was a shame to have to bring the mood down by asking Nathan what he felt sad about, but she wanted to know how he was feeling three weeks since his parents had died.

He chose the green crayon to illustrate his sadness. He was reticent to say what he had drawn. When she asked him to show her on a diagram of his body where he felt his sadness he pointed to his arm.

“Their car was green,” said Marcus. “I don’t know if that’s relevant.”

“Could be. He might be sad because his arm hurts or is a nuisance or he might be associating it with the car accident.”

“How can we ever know for sure?”

“We can’t, but he’s opening up more and expressing himself so that’s positive and an improvement on last week.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” said Marcus, looking dubiously at Nathan and his drawings.

“It is. You’ve clearly created an environment in which he feels comfortable.”

“Even with the nightmares and the bedwetting?”

“Even with those. It’s how you respond that matters, and you don’t judge him or make him feel bad for doing those things he has no control over, which believe me a lot of parents would do in spite of the circumstances. He knows he is safe with you, that is very obvious to me.”

A gentle smile spread over his face at her comment. It felt good to make him feel good, to be responsible for someone else’s moment of happiness, when she herself felt the opposite.

“Thanks, doc,” he said, looking back at Nathan with love and pride in his eyes.

“I hope the eulogy comes together okay,” Abby said as Marcus gathered his things when their session had come to a close.

“I’ll think of you like you said.”

A sadder smile replaced the happy one and Abby felt an urge to put her arms around him like she had that first night, to comfort him, but she knew deep down it was she who needed the comfort, and so she kept her arms by her side.

“Take care,” she said instead.

“You too. See you next week.”

She watched him walk out of her office, hand in hand with his small charge, and tried not to think about what she was missing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the funeral, and Kane receives support from an unexpected source.

The day of the funeral dawned cold but bright. Kane dressed in the only suit he owned which was of course black like the majority of his outfits. He had a navy-blue tie and he fastened that beneath his white shirt collar, grimacing as it pinched his neck. He loosened it a little. Sinclair wouldn’t mind if he was more casual, although Emma would probably do it up again for him like she used to do to her reluctant husband.

He dressed Nathan in black jeans and a black and grey striped sweater. He put his red jacket on him, and his black woolly hat and gloves because it would be cold on the walk to the church.

“We’re going to a special place today where we’re going to meet some of mommy and daddy’s friends and talk about them and remember them,” he said. He’d explained this twice already over the last week but Nathan forgot in between.

“Will mommy and daddy be there?”

Kane hesitated. They would be there, but not in a way he wanted Nathan to think of them.

“No, because they died as you know, so they can’t be there, but we can think happy thoughts about them.”

“Okay.”

“Can you think of something happy about mommy and daddy?”

Nathan shook his head.

“What about mommy’s hugs. Did they make you happy?”

“Yes. They smelled nice.”

“Mommy’s hugs smelled nice. That’s good, Nate. What about daddy? What did you like doing with daddy most?”

“I like being up here,” he said, patting his shoulders.

“You liked being on daddy’s shoulders. Did you feel safe up there?”

“Yes. I could see everything.”

“Those are lovely memories, buddy,” he said, swallowing the lump that had appeared in his throat. “Thanks for telling me. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

They called downstairs on their way and Mrs Jones came out. She was accompanying them to the church to pay her respects and take care of Nathan while Kane did everything he had to do.

“Ya Ya!” Nathan cried happily.

“Hello, boy. You being good for Marcus?”

“He’s been a very good boy today,” said Marcus.

Mrs Jones took over the stroller and they walked to the church. A crowd had already gathered outside. A good turnout, which pleased Kane, not that he was surprised. It was just that he’d been so bad at informing people about the deaths and the funeral, had started to worry that no one would turn up, felt guilty for letting his friend down. There’d been no need to worry.

Inside the church the mood was sombre, with people speaking in hushed tones. Some of those he presumed were Emma’s friends were crying and their sobs echoed around the old building. Nathan picked up on the atmosphere, started to cry as well.

Kane took him from the stroller, holding him to his chest and rubbing his back gently. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

“It’s nearly time,” said Mrs Jones, looking at her watch.

“Okay.”

Kane handed a tearful Nathan to her and she gripped him fiercely, taking off his hat and kissing his head. The boy looked huge in her small arms. They’d decided he’d be better off at the back of the church where he could play if he wanted to and wouldn’t be as affected by the sadness of the other mourners, which seemed like a wise choice now as he was already getting upset.

“You be good for Ya Ya okay? I won’t be far away, and you’ll be able to see me.”

“We’ll be fine, won’t we, boy?” said Mrs Jones.

Nathan put his arms around her neck, looked away from Kane to indicate his displeasure at being handed off to someone else. Kane stroked his hair. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar figure entering the church and was surprised to see her. It was the doctor, Abby. She was wrapped up against the cold in a long black coat and blue scarf. She looked around the space, spotted him and raised her hand. Kane beckoned her over.

“Hi,” he said, taking the gloved hand she offered him and shaking it. “It’s so good of you to come.”

“I just wanted to provide some support if needed.”

“It’s much appreciated.”

“Hi, Nate,” she said.

Nathan turned his head slightly, peeked at Abby from the comfort of Mrs Jones’ arms.

“Say hi to Doctor Abby,” said Marcus.

Nathan turned back, buried his head again.

“We’re shy today.”

“That’s okay.”

“Hello,” said Mrs Jones, who had been raking a sharp eye over Abby since she’d arrived. “Are you going to introduce us, Marcus?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. This is Doctor Griffin, Nathan’s psychologist. Doctor Griffin, this is Mrs Jones my downstairs neighbour.”

“It’s Abby, and it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you too, though he didn’t tell me how lovely you are.”

“Oh, well that’s very kind of you to say,” replied Abby, glancing shyly at Marcus.

“I’m hardly likely to—”

He was interrupted by the funeral director approaching. “Mr Kane, we’re ready, sir.”

“Thank you.” Kane turned back to Abby and Mrs Jones. “I should go.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Nathan’s head. “I’ll be back soon, buddy.”

He headed to the door with Abby close behind him. He stopped on the threshold, looked out to where the coffins were being unloaded from the hearses. He’d chosen not to ride in a car behind them, mainly because he didn’t want to expose Nathan to something so unfamiliar. He didn’t want to be doing any of this, but knew he had to. Sinclair and Emma deserved a proper goodbye.

He let out a shuddery breath, then felt a hand rub his shoulder gently.

“You can do this,” said Abby.

Kane nodded his appreciation, unable to speak for the moment. He headed outside where his old police colleagues were waiting, some of them next to the coffins, the others forming a guard of honour. Kane took up his position at the front of Sinclair’s coffin, lifted it and shouldered it when directed. He didn’t seem to weigh anything at all. He walked slowly into the church carrying his friend for the last time. He thought about when Sinclair had carried him over his shoulder after the bodega shooting, taking him to safety out of the line of fire. He’d saved him, which Kane had been unable to do in return. This was all he had left that he could do for Sinclair.

The vicar was good considering he hadn’t known Sinclair and Emma well, made his remarks seem human, not just a list of facts. Emma’s friend, whose name Kane was incapable of remembering, gave a good eulogy that had people crying and laughing. Then it was his turn. He’d been dreading this, fearful that he wouldn’t do Sinclair justice with his speech. There were people here who’d known him a long time, people from the old neighbourhood in Brooklyn, colleagues from the force, a few distant relatives. He stood on shaky legs, made his way to the dais at the front.

He scanned the crowd while he gathered himself, looking for the only person who was here for him. She was sitting a few rows back, and she smiled gently when he caught her eye, nodded at him. You can do this, he said to himself, echoing her words. He expected his voice to come out with a squeak, but it was strong.

“I first met Jacapo Sinclair when I was five and he moved into my project in Brooklyn. It was one of the better projects, but nobody had much of anything, and we spent most of our time playing outside on the streets. I had a vivid imagination and so did Sinclair and we became firm friends pretty much from day one. Those crowded, dirty streets became like a movie set for us, taking it in turns to play the cop hunting the baddy through the alleyways and passages, pretending we were heroes, and superheroes.

“I told his son, Nathan, the other day that his daddy liked to be Spiderman, but the truth is he wanted to be Batman but I wouldn’t let him. I wanted that so badly and was determined. Sinclair gave in and became Spiderman in all our superhero games. He didn’t give in because he felt bullied, even though I was trying to bend him to my will. He did it because he recognised that I needed it more than he did, that there was something in me that Batman spoke to, something I couldn’t see myself, not until many years later.

“That was Sinclair. That’s who he was right from the start. He never changed, never wavered. He was compassionate, caring, insightful, even as an eight-year-old boy. He was always the better man out of the two of us – stronger, more steadfast, more reliable. Well, I say that, but it’s all relative. Being more reliable than me isn’t exactly a difficult feat to achieve. We got up to some antics over the years, many of them instigated by him. He used to say we should sue the creators of Brooklyn Nine-Nine because it was clearly based on us. He thought he was Jake Peralta of course, but in reality he was more Amy Santiago. I’ve never met a man more addicted to folders and coloured labels.”

There was a ripple of laughter from the mourners, which made Kane feel good, because he didn’t want people to be sad when he was talking about the wonderful life his friend had led.

“I’ll save those stories for the wake later. I don’t think they’re suitable for church. I’m sure many of you here have a few of your own to contribute.”

There were nods and smiles, whispered remembrances amongst their old colleagues. Kane waited a moment, trying to push down some of the more vivid memories that wanted to break through. It wasn’t the time for that; he’d never get through the rest of his eulogy.

“Someone said to me a few days ago when I was struggling to write this eulogy to think about what I would want her to understand most about Sinclair, and I’ve spent a lot of time trying to do that but it’s hard to distil the essence of someone like him into a few words. If I try to do that to Sinclair, I’ll end up with that cheap whisky he liked to drink rather than the good stuff.”

He smiled as people laughed again.

“Sinclair was the good stuff. He was the best friend anyone could hope for and he was a fantastic husband to Emma and father to Nathan. I’ve had the privilege of spending a lot of time with Nate the last few weeks, and he’s an amazing kid, a beautiful soul that they have made and nurtured and I know he’s going to be as wonderful as his parents, because how could he not be? He told me this morning that he loved his mommy’s hugs and that she smelled nice, and that his favourite thing about his daddy was being up on his shoulders where he could see the world and felt secure.

“He’s their legacy, and I’ll make sure that he knows who his parents were and how much they loved him and wanted him. I might even let him be Batman if he wants, though I suspect he’ll want to be Spiderman like his daddy.

“To understand Sinclair you just have to understand what it is to love and be strong and have a great sense of humour. He was the kind of person other people want to be. He was that compassionate, intelligent kid from the projects until the day he died, always true to himself and to others. To know him was a privilege. I loved him, and I will miss him for the rest of my life until we meet again wherever that may be. Rest well, my friend.”

He left the dais, placed his hand on Sinclair’s coffin for a moment, and then he hurried back to his seat because the tears were pricking at his eyes and he didn’t want them to fall so publicly.

The rest of the service passed in a blur and he found himself shaking hands with what felt like a hundred people. The coffins were hidden behind a curtain, to be removed later by the funeral directors to the crematorium. There wasn’t to be another service there. Kane didn’t see the point in dragging it out. He would deal with the ashes himself later, just him and Nathan.

Captain Miller approached him, holding out his hand which Kane shook.

“Excellent service, Kane. You did him proud.”

“Thank you, sir, and thanks for coming and bringing so many of Sinclair’s old friends and colleagues. I really appreciate that.”

“Couldn’t stop them if I wanted to. He was a great man. We already missed you both when you left the force. It’s such a shame.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be in touch about other matters soon.”

“I would appreciate that. Are you coming to the community centre for the wake?”

“I have a meeting in an hour but yes, I’ll pay my respects.”

“I’ll be along in a moment.”

Miller left and Kane stood and looked at the curtain behind which his friends were having their final rest. He didn’t believe in an afterlife or reincarnation or anything that other people found solace in, but people were molecules and atoms at a basic level. Maybe his and Sinclair’s atoms would one day recombine into two beings that were friends again. Maybe not even humans. He could see them as two dogs, wild ones, roaming the streets of New York like they had when they were kids. The sleek grumpy one and the curly cheery one. He smiled at the image. He could live with that.

He turned, saw Abby was behind him, watching him.

“You okay?” she said.

“Yeah, surprisingly.”

“Your eulogy was wonderful. What a beautiful soul he was.”

“He was,” replied Kane, tears forming again. He wiped them away before they could fall, but not quickly enough to stop Abby from seeing them. He found himself dragged into an embrace, allowed her to put her arms around him. He wrapped his around her, squeezed her probably a little too tightly but it felt good to be consoled. He hadn’t had that since the first night, when they’d shared an awkward hug sitting in their chairs. He rested his head against hers. Her hair was warm and fragrant and comforting, like Christmas spices.

“Thank you,” he said, drawing away before it became too comfortable being in her arms. “Are you coming to the wake?”

“I’ll come for a few minutes. I have to get back to the hospital later.”

“Of course. I really appreciate you being here.”

Mrs Jones was standing with Nathan in her arms at the back of the church. She watched Kane and Abby approach with a knowing look on her face as though she’d uncovered some secret treasure she’d long suspected was buried beneath her feet.

Nathan reached out to Kane and he took him from Mrs Jones. “How’s my boy?” he said, kissing his face and stroking his hair. Nathan put his arms around Kane’s neck, hid his face again.

“He was an angel,” said Mrs Jones. “Tired now, though.”

“We won’t stay long at the wake,” said Kane. He carried Nathan out into the fall sunshine while Mrs Jones pushed the stroller. Abby walked a couple of steps behind.

In the community centre he got himself a whisky, and a lemonade for Abby and Mrs Jones. His former colleagues were already into the beer, but Kane didn’t feel like getting drunk. There was only one person he’d ever really done that with and he was gone.

Mrs Jones was interrogating Abby about her practice and Kane half listened while at the same time holding brief conversations with people who came up to talk to him. Nathan was asleep in his arms. He was a heavy weight and Kane was tempted to put him in his stroller, but decided to wait a few more minutes to make sure he was well and truly out and wouldn’t be woken. He heard Mrs Jones ask Abby whether she was single, was curious to hear the answer, but decided to rescue her when she stuttered, clearly not wanting to give away personal information.

“Abby’s not here to be interrogated,” he said, admonishing the old woman with a look.

“I’m only trying to get to know her better. Marcus is single, you know, Abby. Bringing this boy up all by himself.”

“I’m aware of that. He’s doing a wonderful job.”

“He is. Can’t understand why he’s alone. Too handsome to be single, don’t you think?”

“Okay, I’m sure Abby doesn’t want to hear about that,” said Kane. He took Abby’s elbow with the hand that wasn’t holding Nathan to him, steered her away.

“Sorry about that. She wants to find me a woman. Doesn’t believe I’m capable of doing it myself.”

“I see. I suspect you have other priorities at the moment.”

“You could say that.” Kane looked down at the sleeping boy. “Although someone to share it all with once in a while would be nice.”

“We can have a talk about that at our next session if you like, how you can get some respite.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean anything really by that. I don’t want to give him to anyone else, not yet. He’s not ready.”

“No, of course, but there are ways of getting time to yourself.”

“I’ve got Mrs Jones. She comes around most days for an hour or two.”

“She seems like a wonderful support, even if she’s trying to organise your life.” She smiled. It was such a warm smile, made her dark eyes bigger, deeper.

“She is.”

“Okay, well I’d better head off, Marcus. I think today went really well and Nathan seems to have survived it okay.”

“Yes. It’s another hurdle over I suppose.”

“One day at a time.”

“Thank you for coming again, for being here for us. It’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all. I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

“Yes. See you then.”

They stood opposite each other awkwardly for a moment. Kane wondered if he should hug her or kiss her cheek by way of a goodbye but decided against it. Their interactions today already seemed more intimate than usual, even though she was only here to support him in a professional capacity. She pulled her coat tighter around her then turned and left. He watched her go. He was attached to her, there was no denying it. It was natural, because she’d been there for him during his darkest hours and a connection with her was inevitable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that, though.

“Life is complicated,” he whispered to a sleeping Nathan. He returned to Mrs Jones, put the boy into his stroller.

“Abby seems nice,” said Mrs Jones.

“Don’t get any ideas,” said Kane.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” replied Mrs Jones with a smirk so broad it folded all her wrinkles so she was just a grinning mouth and a pair of wickedly glinting eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane tries to tackle Nate's hidden grief. Abby and Indra Netflix and chill.

The Friday following the funeral was one of the hardest of Kane’s life. Nothing happened, but in a way that was the problem. In the three weeks or so since Sinclair and Emma had died, he’d been busy dealing with Nathan and preparing for the funeral. There were still tons of things that needed doing, and the daily life of raising a child and looking after a house was the same. He’d got Nathan up and dressed, changed the sheets, put on a load of laundry, made breakfast, washed the dishes, prepared the soup they were having for dinner all the while talking to Nathan and keeping an eye on him when he was playing with his toys.

Despite this, an emptiness settled over him. It was intangible and he couldn’t put into words what it was or describe it other than to say he felt empty and heavy at the same time. He didn’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone except Nathan, so he cancelled Mrs Jones. He spent the day in the condo, playing with the boy. When Nathan took his nap Kane looked up soup recipes so he could expand his repertoire from the simple vegetable one Abby had taught him.

That night he got in bed with Nathan and he opened the book _The Fall of Freddie the Leaf_. He sat with one arm around the boy and read about Freddie and his friends.

“Moon!” said Nathan when Kane mentioned the word.

“You still want to go there, huh?”

“Yes, and to the stars.”

“To the stars and beyond!” said Kane.

“Woosh!” Nathan flew an imaginary plane with his hand in the air.

Kane continued with the story, through to the fall where all the leaves changed colour. Nathan listened quietly as the leaves started to fall from the tree. When he got to the part where the knowledgeable leaf, Daniel, started talking about the leaves dying, Nathan looked up at him. Kane waited for him to say something or ask a question, but he didn’t.

Kane got a tear in his eye and his voice wobbled as Freddie hung on, unwilling to let go, and then as he fell and landed on the soft snow. Fuck, he thought as he tried not to let his emotion show. He didn’t want to upset Nathan, was starting to wonder whether reading this at bedtime was a good idea.

When he’d finished the short story he looked down at the boy. “What did you think to that?”

“Freddie was a leaf. On a tree.”

“Yes, and he was very colourful, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Nathan yawned, and Kane decided not to talk about it any further that night. He’d introduced the story and the topic and that would do for now. He lay down with Nathan in his arms, thought about getting up once the child had fallen asleep but couldn’t see the point. He was tired himself, wasn’t in the mood for TV or anything else. Images of Freddie lingering on the tree kept invading his mind, so he shut that off, thought about Abby instead, wondering about her, what she did outside of work and her car, whether she was with someone, what they were like if so. He fell asleep to those thoughts.

\---

On Saturday Kane couldn’t face the thought of living the same day over again, so he bundled Nathan up and decided to take him to McDonalds for lunch. They set off walking side by side, Kane pushing the stroller which was filled with a selection of toys and his accessories bag. Nathan paused beneath one of the trees that lined the street, bent and put his hands amongst the leaves.

“Lots of Freddie leafs,” he said, showing a handful to Kane.

Kane was surprised he’d remembered the story from last night as he’d fallen asleep straight away afterwards. “That’s right. They’re all different colours like in the book, aren’t they?”

“They falled off,” he said, looking up at the threadbare tree.

“Yes, because it was their time to die and so they let go of the tree and they floated to the ground.”

“Hmm,” he said, and then he started picking up some of the leaves.

“Like mommy and daddy,” said Kane with a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know if he should pursue the topic, but Abby had said to talk about them and to answer him if he showed any interest or asked questions. He guessed this qualified.

“Are mommy and daddy leafs?”

“Kind of.” Nathan picked up a few more, thrust them towards Kane. “Are you collecting some?”

Nathan nodded. He swept up a handful and Kane took them from him. He had no idea what he was going to do with an armful of dead leaves, but he wasn’t about to stop Nathan in case this was in some way cathartic for him.

When there were more leaves than Kane could carry he was forced to call an end to the activity. “Let’s put them somewhere safe,” he said, trying to hold them against his chest with one arm and fumble in the accessories bag with the other. He pulled some Huggies out of the packet and replaced them with the leaves. “There we go.”

They walked on, Nathan stopping every few yards to pick up more leaves.

“We can’t carry any more,” said Kane as Nathan handed them to him.

“Yes,” he said, looking at him with those big green eyes.

Fuck! “Okay.”

Kane quickly became adept at putting a couple in the bag and then letting the rest scatter behind him as Nathan turned to look for more. They left a trail like this from the condo to Union Turnpike where thankfully there were no trees.

In McDonalds there was only a short line and they were served straight away. They sat at the same table as before, fighting each other with the toys. Kane was Falcon, Nathan was Wasp who he’d got in his Happy Meal. Sinclair had always said that Kane was a big kid in an adult body, and indeed most of his few interactions with Nathan while Sinclair was alive had been messing around and doing things that the parents found annoying. Now he had an excuse to be like that more often, and it was fun.

As they were finishing their meal the man from last week, Ben, entered with his kid Frankie. He smiled at Kane as they headed to the counter. On their return he approached their table, asked if they could sit with them. Kane agreed. They’d barely sat down when Nathan was crawling under the table, popping up the other side to sit next to Frankie.

“They remembered each other!” said Kane.

“Frankie had fun last week. Talked a lot about Nate afterwards,” said Ben.

Kane watched them playing together. Nathan was shy and not very talkative but excited to play. Frankie was chattering ten to the dozen.

“Nate doesn’t see a lot of other kids.”

In fact, he hadn’t seen any apart from Frankie since he’d been in Kane’s care, which was something he must remedy although he wasn’t sure how. The thought of going to some kid’s party or nursery thing with a load of gossiping mothers filled him with dread.

“I guess it’s still a difficult time for you guys,” said Ben.

“Yeah.”

“How’s it been going?”

“Oh, fine, you know.”

“Yeah.”

Kane continued watching Nathan while Ben ate his burger.

“What’ve you got in there?” said Ben, nodding at the bag in the stroller with the leaves poking out.

“He collected some leaves on the walk. We, erm, we’ve been reading a book called Freddie the Leaf. It tries to explain what it means to die in a way kids understand. He wanted to pick them up.”

“God, that sounds dire,” said Ben, pulling a face. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It is! His psychologist recommended it. It’s to help him think about it and talk about it and I think you know it kind of worked a bit today. God knows what I’m going to do with them, though.”

“You’ll have to do an art project or something.”

Kane groaned. “I’m really crap at things like that. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I was the same. Frankie’s mom left when he was barely one, so we’d never really done stuff like that with him anyway. Our house was a cultural wasteland.” He laughed. “If it’s football, I can talk about it or play it all day long. Comes to making things – pfft – I had no clue, but the thing is, it keeps them quiet! And I’m all for that. You can see how much he talks.” He rolled his eyes and grinned.

“He’s sociable,” said Kane.

“He gets that from his mom, although she was a little too sociable if you get what I mean.”

Kane nodded.

“Anyways, one of the teachers at his preschool gave me a list of websites that can help you with that. You got a number or an email address? I can send them to you.”

“Erm, yes, I have an email.” He wasn’t keen on giving his personal details to this guy just yet, but his email was work-related so it wouldn’t matter. “It’s [kaneinvestigationsinc@gmail.com](mailto:kaneinvestigationsinc@gmail.com). Here's my card." He took his business card from his wallet, handed it to Ben.

“[Kaneinvestigations.com](https://kaneinvestigations.wixsite.com/kaneinvestigations)?" he said, reading out Kane's website address. "What are you, a private eye?”

“I am actually.”

Ben looked up from typing the details into his phone contacts. “Really? That’s cool.”

“What do you do?” asked Kane, keen not to get drawn into a discussion about his job. He didn’t feel like talking work plus it reminded him of how much he’d been putting off, and more painfully, of Sinclair.

“I was in the army up until about five years ago, and now I’m putting those skills to use as an electrician.” He took a card from his wallet, passed it to Kane. “If you’re ever in need of some rewiring.”

“Thanks.” Kane took out his own wallet, slipped the card inside.

They moved to the play area afterwards, watched the boys as they played. Frankie fell and started crying. Before Ben could get up and go to him Nathan put his arms around him, patted his back. Seconds later they were back playing and laughing.

“Wow,” said Ben. “Your kid is a great babysitter.”

Kane laughed, his heart swelling with pride. “We’re going to the park afterwards, it’s about a five-minute walk if you guys want to come along?”

“Sure, why not.”

At the park they left the boys in the secure play area, sat outside on a bench watching them. Kane felt anxious, worried that Nathan would fall and hurt his arm without him there to jump in, but Ben seemed relaxed about it. He held his feelings in check. It was good for Nate to have some time apart from him with another kid.

“You like sports?” said Ben.

“Some, baseball mainly, although Nate’s dad was the bigger fan. He wanted Nate to be a pitcher for the Yankees.”

“Every dad has a dream like that. Mine’s that Frankie will run out for the Giants. He’s really uncoordinated, though, so I ain’t holding out much hope.”

“I guess I ought to think about doing some practice with him.”

“When he’s four you can enrol him in Little League, then he can learn and play as part of a team.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably sign Frankie up cause he’s way too young for the football programs but it will be a way of getting him used to team sports and give him some discipline.”

It sounded a bit rigid to Kane. Did three-year-olds need to be disciplined? He couldn’t remember being that age obviously, but even when he was older his parents had left him to his own devices. He and Sinclair had grown up to be pretty well disciplined despite the lack of parental supervision. He’d always thought of his childhood as good, but now he was a father himself he couldn’t imagine letting Nathan loose in the wild to the extent he’d been. His parents had no choice, though. Poverty and the need to work were the imperatives back then.

He wanted to give Nate a mixture of the freedom he’d enjoyed and the attention he hadn’t received. Given that his nerves were currently frayed simply by being a few yards away from the boy, it might be a difficult balance to achieve.

They parted company with Ben and Frankie when the sky turned grey and rain threatened. Nathan was tired from playing, sat quietly in his stroller while Kane pushed him along the cookie cutter streets towards home. He was no longer interested in picking up leaves thank the gods.

When they got home Kane put him down for his nap and then he fired up his laptop, found the email from Ben. He spent an hour trying to find an activity that was simple enough for someone whose idea of crafts hitherto had been gluing his TV remote control back together after he’d accidentally stood on it.

\---

“Are you getting your glad rags on, because they won’t let us in any decent clubs with you in your pyjamas, no matter how sexy they are,” asked Indra as she came down from the spare bedroom where she’d put her overnight bag.

It was a long-awaited Saturday night and Abby had been so stressed all week and so anxious for the day to come and to see Indra that she felt exhausted now that the moment was actually here.

“I don’t think I want to go out, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Whaaat? We’re in New York City, baby! I’m ready to shake my stuff!” Indra did a shimmy, grinning at Abby. She was wearing tight black leather pants and a sparkly red top and Abby felt bad for raining on her parade.

“I just don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone, take your mind off everything. I won’t be bothered. How long’s it been now since you had some action? Six months?”

“Longer than that. There were two or three months before he left when it all fizzled out.”

“All the more reason then.”

Abby shook her head. “I’m not interested in anyone new.”

“I’m not talking about starting a relationship with someone. I’m talking about having some fun, preferably with someone hot.”

“I just don’t feel like it.”

Indra sighed but Abby knew she wasn’t really bothered. She was trying to encourage her, that was all. She always knew when to back off.

“You’ve never been one for uncomplicated fun, have you? How many men have you actually had, I forget?”

“If you mean how many have I had sex with then three. There were two in the early days of college and then I met you know who.”

“Three! I’d need your fingers as well as mine for my total.”

Abby laughed. “Speaking of, how is Kwame?” Indra had been dating a very handsome doctor from the hospital where she worked for a few months now, something of a record for her in terms of relationship length.

“The sex is amazing but God he can be boring, talks mainly about himself. You know what doctors are like, egotistical and in love with themselves.” She winked at Abby.

“You’re a doctor as well!”

“Exactly, so I know what I’m talking about.” Indra grinned broadly. “So, if we’re not going out, I’m taking it you’ve stocked up on plenty of booze and pizza bagels because otherwise I’m heading back to Connecticut.”

“My fridge is full. I have wine and tequila plus the biggest packet of Chex Mix they had in the store.”

“That’s my girl! What are we waiting for? Crack the wine!”

Abby put the Chex Mix in a bowl and brought it and a bottle of white wine into the living room. She got two glasses from the cupboard, poured them both a large one.

“Cheers!” she said to Indra as she plonked down on the sofa next to her.

“To us!” replied Indra, clinking her glass against Abby’s.

They both took long sips.

“Aah,” said Abby. “God, I needed that.”

“Me too. It’s been a bitch of a week.”

“Did you ever identify that dead body?”

Indra gestured with her arms open, wine glass wobbling in the air. “Do you know me? Have you met me?”

“Of course, sorry. What was it you were saying about Kwame being egotistical?” Abby let out a playful scream as Indra battered her with a cushion. “Watch my wine!” she said as the liquid slopped to the rim of the glass.

“I identified her, and the police think they have a good suspect. It was horrible work, but a good outcome as far as these things go.”

“Well done!”

“Thanks. What about you? Positive story only at this stage of proceedings. We can move onto the weepy things once the wine has kicked in.”

“Good plan.”

Abby told her about Holly and her successes, and her plans to start swimming again inspired by the girl. They put on a movie, arguing beforehand over which one to watch. They were both classic film buffs, another thing they’d bonded over at med school. Indra wanted Casablanca but Abby wasn’t in the mood for a love story. They ended up with the Maltese Falcon, which Abby subtly steered Indra in the direction of because it was about a private detective, and it made her think of Marcus Kane. She wasn’t about to divulge that to Indra, though, given she was already suspicious about Abby’s interest in the man, which was purely professional. Absolutely nothing more.

Halfway through the movie they took a break. Abby put the pizza bagels in the oven, opened a second bottle of wine. She was feeling relaxed, happy, enjoying Indra’s company. She hadn’t lived alone since her early twenties, and the last few months had been lonely. It wasn’t until someone else was in the house and there was noise and laughter that she’d realised just how lonely she’d been. No one to cook for, no one to talk to about her day, no one to put their arms around her and make her feel loved and wanted. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to keep the tears inside. The wine was starting to work.

She returned to the living room with a plate full of pizza bagels and the second bottle.

“He always has a lot of women in his movies, Humphrey Bogart,” said Indra before nibbling experimentally at the edge of the bagel. “Too hot!”

“They’re straight out of the oven!” Abby used a napkin to hold her bagel and protect her hands from the heat. “I think he’s kinda hot. All dark and mysterious.”

“You’ve always had a thing for that.”

“I know.” Abby blew on her bagel, took a small bite. “Mmm, this is good.”

“And yet you married you know who.”

“I thought we weren’t mentioning him until later.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

They ate their bagels watching the movie. The dialogue was so fast Abby’s wine-fogged brain was struggling to keep up.

“Bogie’s voice is so iconic, and his hats. I like a man in a hat,” she said through a mouthful of her second bagel.

“Have you ever dated a man in a hat?”

“Jason wore a beanie a lot at one stage.”

Indra snorted. “Dear God.”

Abby had to laugh. She was starting to look back on her time with her ex and wonder what the hell she was thinking. “Have you?”

“I’m trying to think. Oh, god, remember that guy? It was like five or six years ago. He had this fedora thing he liked to wear, always in a suit?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Abby tried to think back through a long line of Indra’s suitors.

“I can’t remember his name. You probably never met him.”

“Right.” Abby sighed. “I’m going to have to get back out there at some point, aren’t I?”

“If you ever want to get laid again.”

“It’s not just about that, though, is it?”

“You’re not going to have trouble finding someone, Abby. You’re hot and funny and clever. What’s not to love?”

“It’s trusting someone after all this, that’s the problem. And not forgetting the rather massive issue of finding someone who doesn’t want to be a father.”

“At your age most of the men you’ll meet will either already be fathers or they won’t want kids.”

“I’m not that old!”

“Abby you have to face facts. You’re not twenty-something anymore. Unless you’re going to date a younger man, which I am all for by the way, then you’re looking at guys in their late thirties, early forties. They’re not going to be young musicians who want to write songs about you. They probably have lives, complicated ones some of them.”

“I think I’d rather be alone,” she pouted, taking a long draught of her wine.

“Rubbish. You just need time.”

They finished the movie and got halfway through the second bottle of wine. Abby got up to put some music on the stereo. She chose Joni Mitchell, because that was the mood she was in. Indra pulled a face.

“Joni Mitchell? Fuck that! Go and get the tequila, we’re doing shots, and I’m choosing the music.”

Abby got up on leaden feet, went to the kitchen to get the tequila and cut some limes.

“God, your music selection is dire. You haven’t changed. It’s either feminist misery or sad guy with a guitar!” shouted Indra from the living room.

“I like sad guy with a guitar,” shouted Abby back. “It’s romantic.”

Indra didn’t reply but Abby could imagine the look that was probably on her face. She smiled. The Black Eyed Peas started blasting from the stereo. _I Gotta Feeling_. Abby was instantly transported back to med school.

“Remember this?” said Indra as Abby entered the living room with the drinks. The coffee table and the chairs had been pushed back to make a dance floor.

“I loved this song.”

“It was the only thing you would get up and dance to.”

“Remember when we went to that party and they had the glow in the dark paints like in the video, and you took your bra off and painted your breasts?”

“Oh, god yeah!”

“All I could see of you was this pair of blue tits prancing around the room.”

Indra laughed. “Fuck, I’d forgotten about that.”

“You always made me laugh.”

“Still do, hopefully.”

“Definitely.”

They clinked glasses, downed the shots of tequila.

“Woo!” said Indra. “Let’s dance!”

She pulled a reluctant Abby into the makeshift dance space.

“You’re in your sparkly stuff and I’m in my pyjamas,” said Abby, looking down at herself.

“And damn sexy you are.” Indra gyrated around her, making Abby laugh. “Come on, girl! Let’s live it up!”

Abby gave in, danced to the song, drank more shots. They danced around the room, singing to the Peas, Alicia Keys and all the music they’d loved when they were at school together. They collapsed on the sofa after, tired and drunk. Abby lay back, put her feet on Indra’s thighs.

“That was fun!” she said.

“We still got the moves for nearly-forty-year-olds.”

“Oh, god, don’t say nearly forty! I got six years left yet!”

“I always forget you’re a couple of years younger than me.”

“I feel forty most days at the moment.” Abby sighed.

“You need to get out and have fun more often.”

“I’m organising a Halloween event at the hospital. That will be fun.”

“That’s not the kind of fun I was meaning,” said Indra with a sigh. “What about that guy, the father who isn’t a father? How’s he these days?”

Abby’s heart thumped at Indra’s reference to Marcus Kane. “Oh, erm, Marcus? He’s having a rough time.”

“Yes, oh erm Marcus,” replied Indra with a sly grin. “Maybe he needs some fun as well.”

Abby thought back to after the funeral, the way he’d looked at her when she was leaving. There’d been something in the air, but she’d dismissed it because it was a funeral and he was grieving and he saw her as his therapist, not to mention he was her client.

“Silence speaks volumes!” said Indra, tickling Abby’s foot.

Abby tried to push her away. “Shut up!”

“A-ha! I knew it. You like him.”

“Are we twelve? I’ve known him like three weeks and he’s mourning his friend, and bringing up a baby, effectively.”

“And that doesn’t tug at Abby Griffin’s heart strings?”

“Yes, of course, but it doesn’t mean I want to date him.”

“But he’s hot though, you said that last time we met.” Indra grinned mischievously at her.

“I agreed he was handsome. I never said he was hot.”

“But he is.”

“He’s, erm, easy on the eye, yes.” Abby couldn’t help smiling back at Indra.

“You have a picture?”

“You know I can’t show you that.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to.”

Abby sucked in a deep breath. “You’re hateful, you know that?”

“I’m merely giving you the opportunity to discuss him like you know you want to deep down.”

Abby reached down the side of the sofa to where her bag rested, pulled out the casefile. She opened it, removed the photo of Marcus and Nathan from beneath its paperclip. She hesitated, then handed it to Indra.

“Oh, wow! Dark and mysterious the way you like ‘em.”

“Fuck off!” Abby tried to take the picture back, but Indra held onto it.

“The kid’s hella cute.”

“Right? Look at those curls.”

“Yeah, but I’m looking more at the man. I’d have him. If it doesn’t work out between you, you can pass him onto me.”

“There’s nothing to work out between us, and what about Kwame?”

“I’m keeping Kwame temporarily for the sex. I can’t spend the rest of my life with someone whose favourite subject is himself.”

Abby took the photo back from Indra, looked at it. Marcus was pale-faced and wide-eyed. His short dark hair had become dishevelled and wavy. He had a haunted look that tugged at something inside her. She hadn’t seen him smile much, because he didn’t have a lot to be happy about, but he had a repertoire of half smiles, and they brightened up his dark eyes when he directed one towards her.

“I think it’s just that we’re both sad at the same time, that’s why I’m drawn to him,” she said, finally admitting that she felt something even though she didn’t know what it was.

“That’s natural. You’re both grieving in a way. You have a lot in common.”

“He doesn’t know about my situation. I’m their therapist, I can’t get involved with him in any way except for a professional one.”

“No, but it’s okay to like him, to allow him in a little bit.”

Abby shook her head. “What’s the point? Besides, I’ve got too much going on with Jason to think about anyone else.”

“Jason’s been gone six months, Abby, longer in his heart by the sound of it. Sorry to be blunt. You just haven’t accepted it.”

“I’ve accepted it now,” she said, and then the drunken tears came as they’d been threatening to do.

Indra scooted over, took Abby in her arms, stroked her hair and whispered to her. “He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.”

“I know,” sobbed Abby.

“Let him go.”

Abby nodded, but was unable to speak.

“I love you,” said Indra.

“L...love too,” stuttered Abby.

Note: Kane's [website](https://kaneinvestigations.wixsite.com/kaneinvestigations) is operational if you want to take a look


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby has an invite for Kane, who is back at work on the Sinclair case.

Tuesday found Abby getting ready for her session with Marcus and Nathan. She’d achieved a form of equilibrium since Indra’s visit, had realised that her friend was right, and she hadn’t truly accepted that she and Jason were over, not deep down in the bottom of her heart. She had now, and with that realisation had come a newfound determination. She was going to take control of her own life, and she wasn’t going to give him a single cent more than his fair share from the divorce.

“Good morning!” she said brightly to Marcus and Nathan as they entered the room.

Marcus was in black as usual, his dark jeans tucked into his black combat boots. He had a blue spotted scarf wrapped around his neck and a two-day stubble on his chin. Abby pushed the memories of her drunken conversation about him with Indra to the back of her mind.

“Morning. It’s getting cold out there!” he said, unwrapping his scarf and putting it and a backpack on one of the chairs. He stood Nathan in front of him, took off his hat, scarf and gloves, unfastened his red jacket.

“We’re already a week into October, it’s just a slippery slope to winter now,” said Abby.

“You’re full of cheer today.”

He flashed her a grin and it was good to see him smile like that although she could tell there was a lot of pain lying beneath. It was in the tightness of it, and the way he sat on the chair with Nathan gripped in his arms.

Abby laughed softly in response. “I am, actually. Fall is my favourite time of year, and I’m even partial to winter. Mainly the blue skies, though, not so much the snow when I’m trying to get to work.”

“Tell me about it. The number of times I’ve frozen my ass off on a stake-out in the middle of winter.” He shivered by way of illustration.

“Ass!” said Nathan, delighted with the word.

“Butt,” said Marcus. “I meant butt.” He shook his head at Abby. “Haven’t got used to curbing my language yet.”

“They pick up on everything.”

“Yeah.”

“So how have things been since Thursday?”

“Okay,” he said, although a twitch of his eyes betrayed the lie behind his statement.

“A funeral can often become a focal point of activity and then once that’s over it can leave a gap, and some people find that’s when thoughts and feelings really move in and the loss becomes real.”

He looked surprised at her words. “Yeah. It can seem empty, like even though there’s loads to do it seems as though there’s a really vast empty space.”

“That’s right, and it’s at times like that you can feel the most alone.”

“If anything I’m less alone now than I was before.” He ruffled Nathan’s hair. “But yeah, I know what you mean. It’s when you realise you’re never going to see them again. There’s just no way you ever can.”

“It hits you really hard.” Abby thought back to when her father died, the only man who’d truly loved and cared for her she realised now. The gap he’d left in her life had been canyon-sized and still was. “How about this little guy, how has he been doing?”

“I’m not sure if we’ve had a breakthrough or I’ve traumatised him again.” He gave a tense laugh.

“Was there pee involved again?” she joked to try and relax him.

“Not this time. We started reading Freddie the Leaf, and the next day when we were having a walk he started picking up the leaves off the ground, and said they’d fallen off and I reiterated the point from the book about them dying. He asked if mommy and daddy were leaves and I said kind of and then he wanted to collect as many as he could on our walk.”

“Why are you worried you might have traumatised him?”

“When I said that they were kind of like leaves. It was cute how he wanted to collect them, but later I started thinking what if he thinks all leaves are his mom and dad? Have I confused him?”

“On the contrary, I think this is a good sign. Symbols and symbolic play are really useful for helping him to understand that changes have taken place and that his mommy and daddy aren’t available to him in the same way as they were before. Fantasising is normal and will become a greater part of his life as he ages.”

“He already thinks I can fly.”

“Yes, I remember him looking for your wings.” She smiled at the image of Nathan searching Marcus’s back. It made her heart swell.

“So I should encourage it?”

“I would say like with everything, don’t force anything, but if he talks about it or he wants to play with the leaves or he wonders where they’ve all gone then yes talk to him about it, keep using the book as a reference, perhaps incorporate it into a game or something creative.”

“Oh, we did! Ben, that guy I met at McDonalds, gave me a really useful website and on Sunday we made a few things. I brought one for you, actually. Nate wanted you to have it.”

He opened his backpack, took out an oblong item. “Do you want to give this to Doctor Abby, Nate?”

Nathan grabbed one end of the item and thrust it towards Abby. She took it, her heartrate quickening for some reason.

“Leafs for you docrabby,” he said.

“Thank you so much, Nate.” Abby hid the emotions that overwhelmed her by examining the colourful print closely. “It’s beautiful.”

“We rubbed crayons over them and that was the result,” Marcus said proudly. “I got the frame from Walgreens.”

“I really appreciate it. Thank you.” She put the frame on the table next to her. “I might take it home if that’s okay; I don’t really have a permanent space here.”

“Oh, yeah, well you don’t really have to keep it, you know, it was just fun, and Nate thought you’d like it.”

“I love it. I will definitely hang it in my consulting room at home.”

Marcus and Nathan both beamed at her and Abby wondered if she’d survive the next five months with them.

“Shall we get down to some drawing seeing as you’re in a creative mood?”

At the end of the session with Nathan they returned to their previous seats. Abby took a folder from the table, opened it and removed some papers.

“This was our fourth session together believe it or not, and I have something I know you’re going to love, Marcus.”

“Don’t tell me – paperwork,” he grumbled as she handed him the papers.

“I’m afraid so. I usually request an evaluation after the fourth session and then again at the halfway mark. There’s a final evaluation at the end of the six-month period. I’d appreciate it if you’re honest in your answers and your comments, that way I can make sure I’m fulfilling yours and Nathan’s specific needs and it will help me improve the program as a whole.”

“We don’t have any complaints, doc.”

“That’s great to hear, but take your time and like I said just be honest. You can bring the papers to your next session.”

“Okay, thanks.” He stood, reversed his actions of earlier by putting Nathan into his outdoor gear. “Did you get out in your car over the weekend?”

“No, I was, erm busy with other things.” She felt warmth rise again to her cheeks at the memory of her conversation with Indra about him.

“Shame.” He fastened the scarf around him, put his black leather jacket on, stood and stared at her.

“Yeah. Oh, I almost forgot.” She opened another folder, took out a leaflet, handed it to him. “We’re having a Halloween event at the hospital on the day itself if you and Nate want to come.”

He examined the leaflet. “What’s involved?”

“Nothing too bad. The kids will tour some of the wards in their costumes and they can collect candy from the patients, all supervised of course. Fancy dress is not optional.”

“I haven’t done anything like this since I was a kid.”

“You’ll have to think of a costume for you and Nate.”

“Yeah.” He stared at her again, dark eyes unfathomable and penetrating. “Will you be there?”

“Yes. I’m the organiser, so...”

He pursed his lips then nodded. “I’ll check our calendar.”

“You’ve got three weeks to come up with either a costume or an excuse,” she said, cheeks starting to flame again because her comment bordered on being too familiar.

“I’ll start working on one,” he replied dead pan.

“Costume or excuse?”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “See you next week, doc.” He took Nathan by the hand and was gone.

Abby sat back down, turned to the table and shuffled her papers together, lingering for a moment on the leaf print Marcus and Nathan had made for her. It was a sweet gesture, and it made her heart race. It didn’t mean anything other than they’d thought of her and appreciated what she was doing for them. Still, it touched her in a way many of the other gifts and drawings she got from patients hadn’t before.

\---

Over the following days Kane tried to get back to something resembling work. He had to earn some cash somehow because the insurance money still hadn’t arrived, and he’d had to put the last food bill on his credit card. It wasn’t that there was no work; he was inundated with jobs not to mention he still had ongoing investigations. They weren’t the type of jobs you could take a three-year-old on, so he couldn’t go out to visit the clients or do any surveillance. It was also hard to find the time to do anything. He had two hours a day when Mrs Jones sat with Nathan and the evenings after the boy had fallen asleep.

The day before, a regular client had messaged him with a job that was ninety-five percent online investigating and he’d snapped the opportunity up in an instant. The other investigation taking up what little time he had was the one into the sleazy CEO, Cadogan, and the accident that had claimed the Sinclairs’ lives. A month had passed since they’d died, and he finally felt able to face looking into it.

Friday night. Nathan was fast asleep, and Kane was stretched out on the sofa surrounded by files like in the old days. Sinclair’s laptop was balanced on his bent knees. He’d been through every document, every folder looking for anything he didn’t already know or information relating to the mysterious HM, Cadogan and the alleged front company Empire Foods Inc. There was nothing on the computer but an online search told him that Empire Foods was a subsidiary of C&F Inc, the business at the top of the food chain as it were.

C&F began life in a warehouse in Brooklyn back in the eighteen fifties, founded by Cadogan’s great grandfather and a man named Franco who was a recluse with little known about him. It was incorporated in New York and the city remained its worldwide headquarters. C&F soon became one of the biggest distributors and exporters of food products in America, taking advantage of the rise in department stores like Macys, before becoming international. The company was famous for its acquisitions, swallowing up other companies like some huge basking shark and building on their previous successes. Empire Foods was a small, registered subsidiary with two directors – Bill Cadogan and a Rebecca Franco, presumably the great granddaughter of the original partner.

Kane searched Rebecca Franco online but could find little except details of her association with the business. She was in her early forties so a lot younger than Cadogan. That was all Kane could find. She appeared to be as much of a recluse as her great, great grandfather.

He returned to HM. She must be an employee of C&F if she had bank details of the companies, presumably working in the finance or people departments. He’d have to find employee records and search them. This was usually Sinclair’s department. He had greater reserves of patience than Kane and was much better with technology. He wasn’t here, though, so Kane would have to do it.

Kane checked his phone. It was nine o’clock. On a whim he decided to try calling HM again, see if she’d be more willing to talk outside of office hours. He placed the call. As before it rang a few times then went to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message. He dragged himself from the sofa, went to the fridge and got his sole beer of the day. The hiss as the cap came off was full of promise, the first swallow cool and honeyed as it slid down his throat.

“Ah,” he said to no one.

He moved the files and the laptop to the coffee table, lay back on the sofa with his legs stretched out and took another sip. Abby came into his mind like she often did late at night when he had time to think. She’d teased him, he thought, when she’d talked about Halloween, daring him to make up an excuse. He’d reciprocated, left her wondering. Was she wondering, though? Did she even give him a second thought once he was out of her office? She’d come to the funeral, but as professional support. Probably didn’t want him breaking down in front of Nathan, ruining all the good work they’d put in.

No. That wasn’t fair. She was kind, that’s all, caring generally. He’d almost forgotten what it was to flirt with a woman, to interpret the signals. He was out of practice and he couldn’t see anything changing soon, or for years possibly. He’d struggled enough in the past to balance work and a girlfriend. No woman was going to want to date him when he had a young kid; she’d probably think she’d end up as de facto mother, doing all the caring. That would put anybody off. He’d have to limit himself to ineptly flirting with his son’s therapist and take what little joy he could from that.

He took another sip of beer, glad he was sticking to one because his thoughts were in danger of becoming self-pitying, not that it mattered if there was no one to hear him moaning. His phone rang, disturbing his reverie. It was her, HM.

“Marcus Kane,” he said when he answered.

“I told you not to call me again,” she said in hushed tones. He could hear sirens in the background, something rustling, possibly wind.

“If you don’t want to speak to me why have you called back?”

“To stop you from trying again.”

“If you meet me and hand over what you have this will be over and I promise you I won’t contact you again.”

He heard her suck in air and then blow it out along with a laugh. She must be outside smoking a cigarette.

“That’s a promise I already know you won’t keep.”

“Give me something that I can go on at least, anything. I’ll take it from here,” said Kane, determined not to let this go. If he could get even the smallest amount of information from her then he had a way in.

“I can’t. It’s best you let it go.” She said that with an air of finality and a knot grew in Kane’s chest. This might be his only chance.

“Jacapo and Emma were my best friends and now they’re dead. Their three-year-old son is a traumatised orphan, and he’s stuck with me, the world’s most incompetent father. I won’t rest until I uncover the truth.”

“You’re raising their son?”

“Yes, and I want him to know the truth about what happened to his parents.”

“What if they kill you too? The boy will be an orphan all over again.”

Her words gave Kane pause, because of course the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Nathan, but he couldn’t let this go, Sinclair wouldn’t want him to, he knew that in his heart. He was prepared for danger, always had been, otherwise he’d never have joined the police force. He owed this to his friend, and to Emma and Nathan.

“If you help me take them down it won’t get that far.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Kane waited, but HM didn’t speak. She was still there, though; he could hear her dragging on the cigarette.

“You must have wanted to help stop what they’re doing if you contacted Sinclair. I need you more than ever. Help me take them down and then they can’t do this to anyone else,” he said, turning the screw.

She sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you, but I need a few days, a week maybe. I’ll be in touch. DON’T call me.”

The silence was permanent this time because she’d ended the call.

Kane took a deep breath, let it out slowly as though he too was smoking a cigarette. He’d been a smoker for a while years ago, and he was wondering now if it had been the action of inhaling and exhaling that had been the most soothing, not the hit of nicotine itself, because it relaxed him after the stress of the conversation with HM.

He breathed slowly again, his eyes closed. He came to with a jerk moments later, his beer still upright in his hand, surprised that he’d drifted off so easily. He was tired, but his mind was clear. The investigation into Cadogan was huge even before what happened with Sinclair. If he was going to focus his limited time on it, then he was going to need an assistant, someone who could take on Kane Investigations’ other cases, earn the business the money he so desperately needed. He thought he knew just the person, assuming she was interested in putting aside her own freelance work. He’d call her tomorrow.

With that settled he finished his beer then pulled the blanket over him, hoping for an early night and some good sleep. He breathed slowly and deeply as before, but sleep did not come. His mind was less active, so he chalked that up as a win as he switched on the TV and flicked to his favourite classic movie channel.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane meets with his potential new investigator. Abby goes to visit a client and receives a terrible shock.

Tuesday morning and Kane was doing some last-minute tidying of the living room because he had a meeting in a few minutes and the tiny room now functioned not only as living area, dining room and bedroom but also office of Kane Investigations. There was no way to make the place look professional, but he’d done his best by moving the armchair so it was more at right angles to the sofa and setting up his laptop and files neatly on the coffee table. He didn’t know why he was bothering because his visitor wouldn’t care but it gave him a sense of control over his increasingly chaotic life. It wasn’t normality, but enough of an illusion to give him comfort.

“Marcus, I want nana!” said Nathan, tugging on his sleeve as he was straightening the files.

“You didn’t want it at breakfast.”

“Hungry now.”

“Okay, fine.” He was willing to give in easily even though they’d had a war of wills over the banana earlier because he wanted Nathan to be good during the meeting. He went to the kitchen, returned with the fruit.

“Are you going to be a good boy while I have my meeting?”

“Yes,” Nathan replied, nodding seriously.

“Thank you.” Kane peeled the banana, handed it to the boy. “Why did the banana go to the doctor?” he said.

Nathan looked blankly at him.

“Because it wasn’t peeling well.” Kane laughed at his joke, but Nathan looked unamused. He broke the top off the banana, stuffed it into his mouth.

“Tough audience,” said Kane.

He was saved further humiliation by the buzzing of the door.

“Door!” said Nathan as he always did, showing Kane a mouthful of half-chewed banana.

“Kids are disgusting,” he muttered to himself, half-laughing as he went down the stairs and opened the door.

“What’s so amusing?” The brown-haired girl standing on his doorstep grinned at him, her large dark eyes smiley and intelligent.

“Nate, well he’s not amusing so much as disgusting sometimes. Hi, Raven.” He held out his hand to shake hers and was pulled into a brief hug.

“So sorry to hear about Sinclair,” she said. “He was a great guy.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I know.” Kane led her up the stairs into the living room.

“How was the funeral? I was upset I couldn’t attend. Of all the times to be in California.”

“It was a good send off as far as these things go. You remember Nate?” he said, putting his arm around the boy.

“I do. Wow, you’ve grown, kid! You were barely knee high when I last saw you.” She knelt in front of the boy, ruffled his hair. “These curls, so like his.” Her eyes were shiny when she stood and looked at Kane.

“Yeah,” said Kane, clearing his throat. “Nate, this is Raven, she’s a friend of mine and daddy’s. She sometimes works with us.”

Nathan looked up at her shyly, then retreated behind Kane’s leg.

“He’s shy with people he doesn’t know well. Can I get you a coffee?”

“Yeah, great. Black, please.”

“Take a seat. I won’t be a minute.”

Kane headed to the kitchen, shadowed by Nathan. “We have to be nice to Raven,” he said to the boy as he made the drinks. “I’m hoping she’s going to work with me and help me.”

“She live here?” he said, looking worried.

“No, but you might see her a lot. Shall we give her one of our special cookies to make her feel welcome?”

“No,” said Nathan, shaking his head vehemently.

“I think we should. It’s the friendly thing to do.”

“Can I have one?”

“You just had a banana!”

“I want cookie too.”

“Okay, but we’d better not tell Doctor Abby later. She already thinks I feed you trash most of the time.”

In the living room he handed Raven her coffee and took up position on the sofa. Nathan sat next to him, Buzz in hand, staring at Raven.

“Is Buzz your favourite?” she said.

“Yeah,” said Nathan.

“Mine too.” Raven smiled, and Kane was pleased because even though she’d be out of the office a lot if she accepted his proposal, she’d also have to spend some time here with them, and he wanted her and Nathan to be happy with that.

“Thanks for coming to see me. I really appreciate it.”

“No worries. I was intrigued by your message.”

“You can see my situation. I’m the sole carer for Nate and as you can probably imagine he has some trauma from the accident and losing his parents, things that make it difficult for me to leave him with anyone else.”

“God, yeah, poor little thing.”

“I’m struggling to earn any money because I can’t go out on investigations, but I have tons of work either in progress or lined up. I need someone who can take on those cases for me, get out and do the footwork. You’d be on your own a lot—”

“Well, I’m used to that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be here for support and to help with admin and paperwork, anything that’s easy for me to do from home. Maybe in a month or so things will have settled with Nate and I’ll be able to get out to help you on the ground, but there are no guarantees.”

“Okay, so this sounds like a pretty full-on position, then?”

“There’s enough work for a full-time post, but I’m open to negotiation regarding hours. You’re the best, Raven. Sinclair always used to sing your praises. I think he saw a lot of himself in you.”

“That’s hugely flattering.”

Kane nodded. He knew he’d made the right choice in Raven. She was the youngest of all the freelance investigators he used at just twenty-four, but she was by far the cleverest. She didn’t like being tied down, though, which was why she was freelance. She could have her own agency if she wanted, she was that good, but it would mean too much paperwork, and having to stay in one place. There were no guarantees she would agree to his offer.

“It doesn’t have to be permanent, permanent, maybe just for a couple of months to start with. Everything is just so upside down here. Obviously, I need a long-term partner but I’m looking right now for someone who is willing to commit to this for the near future, and jump right in, because I have cases you could start on tomorrow if you were interested.”

Raven watched Nathan as he played with his toys. He’d got bored of sitting next to Kane halfway through the conversation and was on the floor driving a racing car up and down the wood making vroom-vroom noises. She turned her attention back to Kane.

“I have a few cases I’m working on at the moment so I wouldn’t be able to work full time straight away.”

“That’s fine,” said Kane, relief flooding his veins because she was going to say yes and that was all that mattered. “I can pay you for hours worked and then when you’re able to do full time we can talk about salary and all that stuff.”

“Okay, well in that case I accept.” She grinned, and Kane smiled broadly.

“Fantastic!” He held out his hand and she took it, gave it a firm shake. “Welcome to Kane Investigations.”

“Thank you! I’m really glad you came to me, Kane. I appreciate it.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to commit yourself to anything full on.”

“I wouldn’t normally, but I loved Sinclair and I think what you’re doing to look after his son is pretty amazing. I’m happy to help, plus I don’t think a few months in one place will kill me.”

“Hopefully not! Have another cookie.”

Kane held out the plate to her and she took one. He’d decided not to tell her about his investigation into Sinclair’s death just yet. It was more important that she got on with the other work, and he didn’t want to involve her in something when he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. There’d be time enough for that later if necessary.

“So, what do you have that I can start working on? I do have some capacity.”

“I have a couple of current cases that could be easily finished off and then we’d have a payday and enough to start on the next ones.”

“Let’s have a look,” she said, pulling the armchair closer to the table.

Kane looked through the files to find the relevant ones. It was a positive step forward, and his heart felt a fraction lighter for the first time in a month.

\---

Abby spent the first part of her morning at the office of her divorce lawyer, Collette Byrne, going over all the paperwork she had regarding the house and her finances. New York law unfortunately treated any property bought during a marriage as marital property even if it was only in one name and even if the other person hadn’t contributed financially to it. It would be up to a judge to decide what Jason was entitled to in terms of the property and any maintenance.

Abby had assumed that because she’d effectively kept him and paid for everything he wouldn’t be entitled to much, but there was an argument that they’d agreed to that and Jason had an expectation that he didn’t have to contribute.

“The judge will decide how much is fair,” said Byrne. “It’s impossible to know how they’ll view it. You might have to effectively buy out his share of the house.”

“I can’t afford that! I took out a loan against it to pay for the IVF and it’s hard enough making the payments as it is. I don’t see where I can get the money from.”

“We have a strong case, Abby, and a lot of good evidence about the financial imbalance in your marriage, and I intend to argue that you supported him in the expectation that he would one day be able to contribute financially, and that he didn’t do his upmost to make that happen.”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

“Yes, but the music business is fickle, and it might be hard to prove that he didn’t try, and even if we did find proof that might not make a difference.”

“It can’t be right that he freeloads off me for years and then when he’s had enough, he just takes everything I have!”

“I still think we have a good chance, but you know you will have to pay him some maintenance. I don’t want to give you false hope about the house. Once the paperwork is filed his lawyer will want a valuation and they’ll base their request on that.”

“I can’t sell my house,” Abby said despairingly.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Byrne smiled in what Abby guessed was supposed to be a reassuring way, but it didn’t help.

She left the lawyer’s office angry and upset, the weight of injustice pressing down on her, compacting every fibre of her being into a taut ball of frustration. She didn’t have time to dwell too much on it, however. She had a long-standing client to see before lunchtime, one of her paying clients outside of the hospital program. She’d recently moved to Jackson Heights, a neighbourhood with which Abby wasn’t familiar.

She headed up Grand Central Parkway, glad that the traffic on her side was light so she could put her foot down, get rid of some of the aggression she was feeling. The other side of the parkway was heavy with traffic, which would be a pain on her return as she had to get back for a session in Queens with Marcus and Nathan after lunch. Her mood had improved slightly by the time she passed the tennis centre at Flushing Meadow. She missed her exit while thinking about Jason, ended up driving through the concrete jungle that was the outskirts of LaGuardia airport. She finally managed to exit in Astoria, headed back into Jackson Heights.

Her sat nav kept telling her to U-turn in places where it seemed impossible to do so. She pulled up so she could reset it, then eased out into the traffic on 34th Avenue. She stopped at traffic lights at the junction with 74th Street, looked around idly as she waited for them to change. A man and a woman were ambling along the sidewalk hand in hand. There was something familiar about him, his shape, the way he walked. She could only see the back of him but something in her body reacted to it, made a cold shiver run through her.

At the crosswalk they turned, looked at the lights. Abby’s stomach flipped making her feel sick. She grew cold all over. It was Jason. Unmistakably him. He was dressed in his favourite outfit of black jeans, purple shirt and black waistcoat unbuttoned. He ran his hand through his over long hair in the same way Jason did. It wasn’t the sight of him that made Abby grow cold, however, it was the woman with him. Abby stared at her. She didn’t notice what she looked like or how old she was. The only thing she could see was the enormous belly protruding in front of her. As she watched, the woman stroked it, then turned to Jason and smiled. He leaned in, kissed her.

A horn blaring made Abby jump, and she looked in her rear-view mirror to see the driver behind gesticulating at the lights. She looked forward, saw they were on green. In a daze she moved ahead, then turned right even though that was the opposite direction to which she was intending to go. She found a space a few yards down, pulled into it. She was barely aware of what she was doing, only that she was suddenly walking back towards the junction. The lights had changed in between of course, but she could still see Jason and the woman on the other side, walking hand in hand.

She rocked on her heels impatiently waiting for the lights to change. The second they did she was across the road, walking quickly along the other side, the two figures getting closer because they were walking slowly and now she was practically running. She was just a few yards behind them when she stopped.

She called out his name. “Jason!”

He turned, his eyes growing wide and his mouth falling open as he realised it was her.

“Abby, er, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here? What is that?” She pointed to the woman’s belly. The woman she could see now she was closer wasn’t much more than a girl - young and pretty. She had long, blonde hair and baby blue eyes and she was looking from Jason to Abby with a frown on her unlined face.

“Who is this, Jay?” she said, gripping his arm.

Jason was a deer caught in the headlights. “Erm...I...it’s...” he stammered, before falling silent.

“I’m his wife!” said Abby, her voice surprisingly low and cold considering how much heat was rising inside of her.

“His ex-wife,” said the girl confidently.

“Not yet!”

“It’s fine, Anne-Marie, leave it to me.” He tried to push the girl behind him, but she stood her ground.

Abby moved a step closer to them both. “What’s going on?” she hissed.

“It’s nothing.” He moved away from Anne-Marie, spoke in hushed tones to Abby. “She’s a friend I’m helping that’s all.”

“Bullshit!” said Abby.

“Jay, I’m not—”

“Be quiet, okay. Just... trust me. Think of...” he nodded towards the girl’s belly.

“I don’t understand.”

“Just go to the apartment. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Anne-Marie hesitated, but then she held her belly, stroking it a few times before starting to turn away.

“Wait!” said Abby, grabbing her arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Get off her, Abby!” shouted Jason, pulling Abby away.

“Get off ME!” she cried, trying to shrug him off, but his hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist and he was trying to twist it behind her back. She struggled with him.

“Jay!” cried Anne-Marie, starting to sob.

“Look what you’ve done!” said Jason, glaring at Abby. He turned to Anne-Marie. “Go to the apartment.”

The girl hurried away. Abby was sorry for grabbing her arm, but felt little sympathy otherwise. What did she expect if she messed around with a married man?

“Is that your baby?” she cried, as Jason frogmarched her back down the sidewalk. She’d been trying to hold her tears inside but the way he was handling her as though she was a piece of trash hurt so much the tears slid down her face like rivers of betrayal.

“You’re hysterical, Abby. I think you should calm down.”

“I’m not hysterical. I want to know what’s going on. We’re still married!”

“Only because you refuse to get a divorce,” Jason hissed.

“How far along is she?” she said, her voice loud now, full of pain and despair.

A few people had stopped to watch them, but no one intervened even though Jason was twisting Abby’s arm painfully.

“It’s none of your business; leave us alone,” he said, and by now he’d dragged her back to the junction. He flung her away and Abby stumbled, frightened for a moment that she was going to fall into the traffic.

“Jason!” she sobbed, unsure what she meant by saying his name like that, what she was appealing to or for.

“Go way, Abby.” He looked at her with such contempt something changed inside her. She stood straighter.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Behind her the lights changed and the first car started to move. She stepped out anyway, ran across the crosswalk, ignoring the screech of brakes, the horns and the shouts of the drivers.

“What are you going to do?” shouted Jason from the other side. She ignored him, ran to her car, got inside and peeled out with barely a glance to see if anything was coming.

“Fuck!” she screamed in the empty space of the car. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

\---

Somehow Abby got home without killing herself or anyone else on the road. The heavy traffic was probably a help, because it forced her to drive slowly. It was difficult to concentrate, though, because all she could think about was Jason and the girl with the baby. Was it his, or was he just helping her like he’d said? Why had he treated Abby like that? Grabbing her and throwing her away like the last decade of his life with her meant nothing. She meant nothing.

She pulled into the driveway of her home with some small relief. Inside, she paced up and down the living room, trying to think what to do. She’d threatened him as she was flung away, but it hadn’t meant anything at the time; she’d wanted to lash out, to hurt him that was all. She should do something, but what? There was no way she was letting him get away with this. She had to find out the truth somehow, confront him with it, and speak to her lawyer, tell her what had happened. She dialled the number; was told she was in court all day. Damn it!

Exhausted suddenly, Abby flopped onto the sofa. How had her life got to this? She’d been a good partner to Jason. Loving, attentive, encouraging. The infertility problems were an issue, yes, but she felt like they’d barely scratched the surface of the options available to them. She was thirty-four, still had plenty of years left. If he’d loved her, he would have tried everything before giving up, but he didn’t love her. He’d told her that. She wasn’t enough by herself.

She put her head in her hands and wept, the pain immense, taking over her whole body so that her sobs were loud and powerful. She let them out, because it wasn’t as if there was anyone else to hear them. When she’d calmed down a little she called Indra, but it went straight to voicemail because it was the middle of the working day and she was probably elbow deep in someone’s entrails. Middle of the day... oh, shit! She had her session with Marcus and Nathan. She wasn’t in a fit state for that but she couldn’t let them down. Maybe it would be good for her to concentrate on someone else’s problems. What else was she going to do, sit around the house and mope all day? She couldn’t drive to the Queen’s Medical centre, didn’t trust herself behind the wheel again. She’d text him, see if he was willing to come here.

She sent the message and then messaged the woman she’d been on her way to meet, told her there’d been a family emergency. She should have called her directly but she didn’t trust herself right now. She had an hour or so before her session with Marcus and Nathan, time she should use to centre herself so she could be professional. She took an armful of files to the second living room she used as a consulting room for her private patients, sat on the sofa there and started making notes on some of the reports she’d received.

When the doorbell rang, it startled her. Surely that wasn’t the boys already? She went to the door, opened it. An angry Jason pushed past her and for the first time in her relationship with him Abby felt fear.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I’ve come to talk to you. I want to know what you meant when you said I’d pay.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“You can’t go around threatening people, Abby,” he said, leaning towards her in a manner that could only be described as threatening.

“And you can’t go around impregnating random women! Who is she? How long has this been going on?”

“I told you she’s a friend.”

“I don’t believe you. A year ago we were trying for a baby ourselves, and then suddenly everything stopped. You didn’t want to have sex, you were never here, and then you told me I wasn’t important to you anymore and you left. Is she why? Were you already seeing her then?”

He didn’t look at her; instead he turned and paced, disappeared into the consulting room. Abby followed him.

“Were you already seeing her?” she repeated, louder this time, getting up into his face.

“Yes!” he shouted, his eyes sparking bright, his lip curled in a snarl.

Time seemed to slow to nothing. Abby was aware of every breath she took, loud in the silence of what was now a world where nothing existed except her and Jason, and that world was imploding, turning in on itself and sucking all the air out of the room until suddenly there were no breaths to hear because she’d stopped breathing.

“N...no,” she stuttered, the word stretched out infinitesimally.

“I’ve been seeing her for a couple of years,” he said, shattering the last few pieces of Abby’s life as casually as if it were nothing more than an unloved coffee mug. “I wanted to tell you, but you were so caught up in the baby thing.”

“What?” cried Abby, coming back to earth with a jolt. “I was caught up? YOU wanted the baby. That was all you!”

“I thought it would make you happy, but it just made you miserable, and then Anne-Marie got pregnant anyway, and so I figured I’d better do the right thing by her.”

“The right thing by her? By her? What about your wife of ten years? What about doing right by me?” Her shock had been replaced by anger, the kind she sometimes had that sparked and grew quickly like lighting the touchpaper on a firework.

“We both know I was never good enough for you. That was clear all the way through our marriage.”

“I... I never!”

“There’s no need for any trouble between us. Agree to the divorce and then I’m out of your life for good. It’s what we both want.”

He was so calm standing before her having destroyed everything she thought she knew that the spark of her anger became a flame and then exploded.

“Get out!” she screamed. “Get out of my house!”

“Abby!”

“Get out!” She was pummelling him, pushing him like he’d done to her because he was standing there refusing to go.

“Abby, for God’s sake!” he said.

“Go! Go before I do something I’ll regret,” she cried, and then he did go, slamming the door behind him.

She sank onto the sofa and cried so hard her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw so tightly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Abby is reeling from Jason's revelations, Kane is on his way to her house with Nate for their therapy session. What will he find when he gets there, and will Abby open up to him at last?

Raven had stayed for lunch and then left with a couple of casefiles she was going to start working on. Kane was washing the dishes when his phone buzzed with a text from Abby saying she had car trouble and was holding her appointments at home if it wasn’t inconvenient for him. It was an address in Forest Hills only a few minutes from the Hospital Centre where he’d been expecting to meet her. He texted his agreement.

“We’re going to see Doctor Abby’s house!” he said to a disinterested Nathan. Kane was more interested than the boy, curious to see where she lived, what her home life was like.

He pulled up outside Abby’s house five minutes before his appointment with her. The car journey to Forest Hills had sent Nathan into a doze. He’d refused his nap earlier, so Kane decided to give him the extra time to sleep before he’d have to wake him to visit the doctor. He examined her house with a critical eye. He’d imagined her to be wealthy because she was always dressed nicely and she didn’t have much of a New York accent when she spoke, but the neighbourhood and the house itself was more average-sized. Probably built for professional families back in the construction boom of the twenties. Small as it was it was still way bigger than his and Sinclair’s apartments. You could probably fit both of them inside it and still have room to swing a few cats.

The render on the outside was a creamy yellow, bright in the fall sun. The rooftiles and the woodwork were the same chocolate brown. The gabled porch and the chimney that bisected the front wall gave it a quaint look, like one of those cottages in the woods in the old fairy tales. Hansel and Gretel, something like that. It was very Abby. Compact and stylish but welcoming. There was a small area laid to grass at the front with a large conifer tree that shaded one side of the house. He’d have to cut that down if it were his, not that he was against trees, but it was huge, probably made those rooms dark.

Abby’s Mustang was parked on the narrow driveway and there was a nondescript silver car behind it. He didn’t know she lived with anyone, but then why would he? The only people they talked about were him and Nate. He supposed she was married or partnered up. She was attractive inside and out, so that was hardly surprising. He felt a vague sense of disappointment at the thought. Nathan stirred, and the clock on Kane’s dash said it was two. He got out of the car, went round to Nathan’s side and stroked his arm until he woke properly.

“Come on, buddy. We have to go see Doctor Abby.”

“Mmm,” mumbled Nathan.

Kane picked him up, carried him and Buzz to the sidewalk then set him down. He took his hand and started to walk up the path towards the house. Suddenly the door flung open, and a tall man with dirty blonde hair stormed out, head down, nearly knocking Kane and Nathan over as he pushed past them.

“Hey!” shouted Kane, but the man ignored him. He got into the silver car and reversed onto the street in a hurry. Kane memorised the registration, then hurried into the house, concerned about what he might find, hoping Abby was okay.

The house opened into a living room with a brick fireplace. She wasn’t there.

“Abby?” he said, opening another door. It was another living room, this one smaller, with two sofas opposite each other and lots of paintings on the wall. In his brief scan he noticed the leaf print he and Nathan had given her was behind one of the sofas together with a couple of other amateur artworks. That and the sight of Abby sitting on the other sofa, head in hands, made his heart skip a beat. She looked up, her face tear-stained, a look of initial fear replaced by one of pain.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?” Kane went towards her, stopped just short, unsure whether she would welcome comfort after whatever had happened.

“My husband. My ex,” she sniffed, and then she dissolved into tears.

Kane deposited Nathan on the other sofa. “Play with Buzz a minute. I’m just going to talk to the doc.” The boy looked confused but he was still sleepy so he accepted the instruction and started playing with the toy. Kane went back to Abby, sat next to her on the sofa.

“Has he hurt you?” he said gently.

“Not physically,” she sobbed, and then she couldn’t say anymore. Kane put his arm around her shoulder, drew her towards him. “Sorry,” she said.

“It’s usually me saying that.”

Something that was a cross between a hiccup and a laugh came out of her and then she was crying again. He pulled her closer, wrapped both his arms around her. Hers crept around him and he rocked her gently like he did Nathan when he was crying. “It’s okay,” he whispered, stroking her braid.

She pulled away after a moment, wiped her eyes, sat up straighter. “I’m fine,” she said, though she clearly was not.

“Do you want to tell me what’s happened?”

She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her jeans, blew her nose. “No. You’re not here to listen to me. I’m sorry you had to see this; I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Abby, you’ve been there for me when I needed you. Let me be here for you.”

She sat still, watching Nathan, tears welling again in her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we get out of here, go for a walk? It’s a lovely afternoon. We passed a park on the way, we could head there, get some fresh air. What do you say? No pressure to talk if you don’t want to, or we can talk about me. I have plenty of stories for you.”

She nodded, smiling wanly, and Kane waited while she put on a thick, blue cardigan, fastened the ties around her slim waist. Outside, Kane got his leather jacket from the car, put it on. He took Nathan’s stroller from the trunk.

“Walk or pushed like a king?” he said to the boy.

“King!” said Nathan, so Kane fastened him into the stroller, put his gloves on, tucked his curls beneath his woolly hat. He slung his bag of essentials over the handle.

“We’re ready!”

“He’s so cute,” said Abby as they set off down the sidewalk.

“Not at three in the morning,” said Kane, ruefully.

“No, I bet. I’ve seen my share of three o’clocks recently, so I can sympathise a bit.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been like that the last two or three years. It didn’t used to matter because I could pretty much get up whenever I wanted, but now I’m up at seven and it’s a killer.”

“Makes it hard to focus during the day.”

“It does.”

They walked in silence along Abby’s street. Kane had thought Glen Oaks was a nice place to bring up a child, but this was better. He guessed every house had a nice yard, probably three or four bedrooms. He’d been brought up in a two-bedroomed apartment in Brooklyn only slightly larger than his, had never known what it was to have a secure place to play.

“Can I push him?” said Abby, jolting him from his memory of his childhood home.

“Oh, yes, sure. Be a nice break.”

He handed the stroller to her and they walked on. Nathan was chattering to Buzz. Abby was gripping the stroller hard, her knuckles white with the strain. Whatever had happened between her and her husband was clearly extremely painful.

“I can’t have children,” she said suddenly. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, don’t say you’re sorry.”

“Okay,” said Kane, shocked not so much at what she’d said but at her revealing it to him. He didn’t know what to say in answer to it, but thankfully she continued talking.

“Well, technically I can have them, but it hasn’t happened.”

“I take it you’ve been trying?”

“Yeah. Nearly three years. My husband, Jason, you maybe saw him—”

“Yes, we met, kind of.”

“He wanted a baby and when it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he left me, or so I thought at the time.”

“Jesus!” said Kane.

“It was six months ago now and, you know, I’d accepted it. I understood, even though he was a bastard about it.”

“Well, I don’t know much about these things, but I know they can take time. You have to be patient. Sinclair and Emma, they tried for a long time before Nate came along. He talked about it sometimes. I have an idea what it’s like to go through that.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes, it was upsetting for them. He never told me if there was a medical reason or anything, but it worked out in the end.”

“Did you ever want kids?”

“Erm, I didn’t really think about it much. I don’t live a lifestyle where kids would fit in, or at least I didn’t think I did, and I never... there’s never been anyone in my life that I’d want to have children with.” It was strange admitting these things to her, giving her a glimpse of the rather pathetic life he had before Nate. It was still pathetic in the female department, and probably would be for a long time.

They crossed the street and entered the park, which was a small green space with trees lining the paths like sentinels, a few benches, and a children’s play area. They headed to one of the benches, sat down on it. Abby angled the stroller so they could see Nathan. He was asleep again, his thumb in his mouth. Abby brushed a curl that had escaped his hat from his eye. She smiled at him, let out a soft sigh.

“It was Jason who wanted children more than me, not that I wasn’t excited to try, I was.”

Kane hoped she wasn’t going to go into too much detail about her attempts. He was finding it surprisingly hard enough as it was to hear her talk about this man and her life with him.

“I won’t bore you with the details, but we tried different routes, and when that failed he said some things were more important to him than me and he left.”

“He said that?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him with her red tear-filled eyes and Kane couldn’t imagine leaving her for any reason. All he wanted to do was put his arms around her and hold her and he thought if he did that he might never let her go. That was another surprising thought and he pushed it down, unwilling to examine it now or perhaps ever. It wouldn’t do any good.

“That’s a bastard thing to say.”

“I know, but like I said before, I kind of understood.”

Kane shook his head in disbelief.

“No, I did, but then he got nasty, trying to get money and things out of me, and last week he sent me divorce papers out of the blue, expecting me to give it to him uncontested.”

“Why did he do that?”

“I thought he wanted the money. He’s a musician and he’s never really earned much of his own and I figured it was a shock to him to not have me paying for everything, at least that’s what I thought until this morning.”

“What happened this morning?”

“I was up in Jackson Heights visiting a long-term client who’s recently moved there. I still do some private practice; it pays the bills better than the funded program. I was sitting at a junction waiting for the lights, and I saw him. I couldn’t believe it because he’s supposed to be living in Greenwich Village with a friend, but it was definitely him. He was with a girl, young-looking with blonde hair. They turned to cross the street and I saw them clearly. She was pregnant, like really pregnant. Eight months I’d say.”

“What? Who was she?”

“His fucking girlfriend!” she said, her voice rising. It was shocking to hear her curse like that, to see the pain in her face and hear it in her voice.

“His girlfriend? But I thought it was just a few months ago that he—”

“Exactly! Six months ago he left me, when she must have already been two months’ pregnant.”

“Oh, my God!”

“He said it was because I couldn’t have children. He blamed me for the collapse of our relationship, said I’d ruined his life, and all along he had her. Nearly two years it’s been going on, he just admitted it to me. All the time we were trying to have a baby and doing the IVF he was fucking someone else!”

“God, Abby! I’m so sorry.”

She sucked in a loud breath that turned into a strangled sob and he held her again, sat with his arms around her beneath the yellowing trees.

“You see what this means, though?” she said, her voice muffled against his jacket.

“That he’s an asshole?”

“No. It means it IS me. It’s me there’s something wrong with. I’m the defective one.”

“I don’t know about the medical side of this but there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re amazing. He’s the defective one. He has no soul, no conscience, that’s way worse than not being able to have a baby.”

“Yeah?” she said, looking up at him and sniffing.

“Yes. Imagine being like that.” He shook his head in disgust.

“I can’t.”

“No, because you’re kind and you have a big heart.”

She put her arms around him this time, buried her face in his neck. He held her tight, a knot of complicated emotions whirling in him.

She pulled away eventually, giving him a tentative smile. “Thank you. Thanks for... You’ve been great.”

“It’s only payback for everything you’ve done for me. If you hadn’t given me those recipes Nate and I would definitely have starved to death, so we owe you a lot.” He was pleased to hear her laugh at his comment.

“All in a day’s work.” She looked down at the stroller where Nathan was blinking at them, still sucking his thumb. “He’s awake.”

“Yep. No more peace.”

“Shall we take him to the playground?”

“Yes, why not.”

\---

In the play area Abby watched as Marcus pushed Nathan on the swings, both of them laughing as they went higher and higher. Now that she’d calmed down, she felt shocked that she’d told him everything the way she had. She was usually so guarded, even with Indra, but her emotions were raw, she supposed, and he’d caught her at her most vulnerable. Still, it had been easy to tell him, and he’d been a good listener, said the right things, given her hugs that made her feel warm and safe. She could feel his arms around her now, smell the spice of his aftershave. She’d felt at that moment as though she could stay in his embrace forever. She sighed. Marcus turned and looked at her with a soft smile.

“Do you want to push him for a minute, give my arms a break?”

“Yes, sure,” said Abby, taking over from him and pushing Nathan who was squealing with happiness at every swing.

Marcus stood next to her with his arms folded. “What are you going to do next?” he said.

“I don’t know. What can I do? He’s made his choice and he’s about to be a father which he claims he’s always wanted to be.”

“Do you still love him?” Marcus said, and when she glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at her but straight ahead.

“No, and I’m trying not to hate him but it’s hard.”

He looked then. “You’re allowed to hate him. I hate him and I’ve never met him, other than nearly being knocked over by him.”

“I’m sorry he did that.” said Abby.

“Don’t apologise for him; besides, he wasn’t really looking where he was going.”

“I’ve been doing that a long time.”

“What?”

“Apologising for him. I didn’t realise until recently, but I’ve made excuses for him all our married life. Why he didn’t get a part-time job to help with the bills, why he never helped around the house, rarely cooked a meal, why he didn’t want me anymore, why he left. None of it was his fault.” She sighed heavily, sniffed to hold back the tears that threatened. She was done with them now.

“God, and I thought I was a poor prospect for a husband!” said Marcus, a look on his face that was half surprise and half amusement.

Abby smiled ruefully. “I know. I put up with too much.” She pushed Nathan higher. “Why do you think you’re a poor prospect?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity as to how he would answer.

“I walked into that!” He grinned. “Before Nathan I worked long, unpredictable hours, the job came first. I guess I didn’t want to be tied down, but obviously I wanted, you know... company now and then.”

He didn’t look at her when he said that, so he didn’t see the smile that Abby couldn’t hide at his admission.

“You’re tied down now,” she said.

“Yeah, but without the benefits of a wife.” He looked sheepishly at her and then they both laughed.

“Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.”

“Not if you’re with the wrong person, no.”

“Even with the right person. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

“Things happen that you don’t expect, look at me,” Marcus said, putting his hand out to catch the swing on its return, his fingers accidentally closing over hers as she moved to push it. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Abby removed her hand and Marcus brought the swing to a standstill.

“More!” shouted a frustrated Nathan.

“That’s enough swinging.”

“Mer-go-round!” he said, pointing to the brightly coloured roundabout on the other side of the play area.

“You up for a spin on the merry-go-round?” said Marcus, turning to Abby.

“What about your therapy session? We should get back to that.”

“This is therapy. For all of us.” He took Nathan out of the swing and carried him across to the merry-go-round, leaving Abby no choice but to follow.

“Do you want Doctor Abby to come on with you, Nate?” said Marcus as he stood the boy on the platform.

“Yes! Come on Docrabby!”

“Okay, I’m coming,” said Abby, giving in because how could she not with Nathan’s large green eyes blinking at her and Marcus’s dark eyes smiling. She was screwed.

“Hold on tight!” said Marcus.

Abby stood next to Nathan who gripped the metal rail with his good hand.

“This is fun!” said the boy, grinning up at her.

“It is.” She put her hand on top of his small one to hold him in place.

Marcus started to spin the merry-go-round, running alongside it until it had reached a reasonable speed and then jumping onto the same wedge as them. He stood protectively behind Nathan, one hand holding the bar, the other resting atop his head. The movement of the roundabout caused a breeze that whipped Abby’s braid behind her. It was cold but invigorating, and she gave herself up to simply enjoying the moment and Nathan’s laughter.

They returned to her house afterwards, the time for their session long since over. Abby felt guilty, because she only saw them once a week as it was, and Nathan’s therapy was the most important thing, much more than her pathetic ex-husband and his drama.

“Do you have to rush away?” she said as Marcus and Nathan stood in the living room. “I was thinking we could still do part of the session; I don’t have any other clients today.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” said Marcus.

“Yes. I want to. Take a seat in there and I’ll be with you in a minute.” She gestured to the consulting room where an hour ago Marcus had found her sitting devastated on the sofa. She felt better now, determined, more like herself, her old, old self from before all of this.

She returned a few minutes later with coffees for her and Marcus, a juice for Nathan and a bowl of the remaining Chex Mix from her night with Indra. She set them on the table between the two sofas.

“Ooh, Chex Mix!” said Marcus, plunging his hand in and grabbing some.

“You’re a fan?”

“Love it, though I’ve been trying to eat healthier.” He handed some of the mix to Nathan.

“A treat now and then is okay.” Abby took a handful herself and they all sat crunching happily for a moment. “So, what have you been doing since I last saw you?” She picked up her notepad and pen and it made her feel like she was back to business, which was how it should be really.

“I’ve hired another investigator,” said Marcus, popping a waffle into his mouth and crunching. “So I can pay some bills now.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. She’s great, and it’s good to have some normality again. Well, a new normal. It will never be the same as before.”

“No, but taking care of the everyday things is important and can ground us.”

Marcus nodded. “We’ve got a good routine now. Mrs Jones comes for a couple of hours in the morning and he does reading and crafts with her, stuff like that, while I work. We’re going every Saturday to McDonalds and the park with Ben and Frankie. He seems happy with everything during the day, but he’s still having nightmares.”

“How often is he having them?”

“Couple of times a week.”

“Does he say anything or shout anything?” Abby made notes as he answered. She’d like to get to grips with the nightmares if she could, help Nathan and Marcus have a better night’s sleep.

“He calls for his mommy, but I don’t know if that’s like he thinks he’s in the car with her or if he wants the comfort.”

“Okay. How does he respond when you go into him?”

“He’s comforted, I think. I give him a hug and a kiss, and I lie with him until he goes to sleep.”

“Do you talk to him about them, ask him what he dreamt?”

“No, I guess I’ve thought it best to make him forget,” he said, shuffling uncomfortably. She’d noticed he did that whenever he thought he’d done something wrong. She wasn’t sure if it was guilt or annoyance at making what he perceived to be a mistake.

“I think maybe try asking him next time, see if he remembers or wants to talk about it.”

“Won’t that upset him more?”

“It’s like with everything else, talking is good; it can help him confront what is upsetting him and eventually move past it.”

“Talking about feelings has never been my strong suit.”

“You were wonderful today. With me, I mean.” She glanced up from her notes and he smiled shyly in return.

“It’s easy talking to you somehow.”

“I guess that means I’m doing a good job.” She put her head down to make more notes to hide the warmth that had coloured her cheeks.

“I don’t know if it’s your job or you, who you are as a person.”

God, the man was something else! She looked up because she wanted to see into his eyes, see if he was feeding her a line. He was picking out the waffles from the Chex Mix and giving them to Nathan.

“They’re his favourites,” he said when he caught her staring at him.

“Mine too,” replied Abby. She folded over a new page in her book, cleared her throat. “Shall we do some drawing before you go, Nate?”

“Yes,” he replied, showing her a mouthful of half-chewed cereal.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Marcus, who had done that himself earlier albeit only with one waffle at a time.

Nathan opened his mouth wider in response, showing Marcus what was still inside. Marcus looked ruefully at Abby who tried not to smile.

“I haven’t summoned the courage to properly discipline him yet,” he said. “I can’t bring myself to do it, not that he’s badly behaved or anything.”

“I have a booklet you might find useful. Boundaries are important for young children and if you don’t establish them early then you’ll rue it later.”

Marcus grimaced. “Okay.”

“You’re doing great,” she said like she always did.

When the session was over, Marcus seemed reluctant to leave and Abby wasn’t relishing the prospect of being alone either. He’d successfully managed to take her mind off what had happened with Jason, but once she was alone it would all come back and she’d have to deal with it.

He stood awkwardly in the hallway while Nathan ran around Abby’s main living room flying Buzz. “Will you be okay?” he said at last.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. You’ve been amazing, truly. Thank you.” She rubbed the arm of his jacket in reassurance.

“I know what it’s like, in the dark, in the silence.”

Abby nodded, feeling tears well, not because of Jason but because of Marcus’s kindness. “I’ll be okay.”

“That day you called me back... I was low. It was a relief to talk to you.”

“I was happy to be there for you.”

“I’m happy to be there for you if you need me.”

“I appreciate that, but my job... you know. Makes it hard.”

“Yeah.” He reached out and rubbed her shoulder briefly like she had done to him. She knew she’d get another hug if she showed signs of wanting it and it was tempting, it really was, because it felt good, and she needed the comfort, and she liked him...

“I’ll see you next week,” she said.

“You will.” He poked his head into the living room. “Come on, buddy. Time to go.”

“Bye,” said Nathan, waving at Abby as he followed Marcus out of the door.

“Bye,” said Abby, and she watched them head down the path and settle into the car. Marcus looked at her and waved before he set off.

Abby closed the front door with a heavy sigh.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby meets with her lawyer and comes to a controversial decision. Kane finally meets the mysterious HM.

Three days before the deadline for responding to Jason’s divorce petition, Abby met with her lawyer, Collette Byrne, at her office in Manhattan. It had been a miserable journey into the city, the subway crowded with damp, unhappy commuters, the sky dark with rain, the streets shiny and reflective of the flashing neon lights. It felt like night-time but was only ten in the morning. As she’d approached the lawyer’s building a taxicab had driven too close to the sidewalk, splashing a puddle of water over Abby’s trousers. Consequently she was sitting in the waiting room trying to dry herself off with a handful of paper towels the receptionist had given her.

“Oh dear,” said Collette Byrne as she came out of her office to greet Abby.

“I’m not having a good week,” replied Abby, handing the squidgy wadge of towels back to an unimpressed receptionist.

“Come into my office; I’ve a pot of coffee on the go.”

“Lovely, thank you.”

“So,” said Collette when she’d poured them both a coffee and they were sitting at the small conference table in the corner of her office. “That was an interesting voicemail you left for me.”

“Yes. Sorry if I was incoherent. I was distressed at the time, but I’m fine now.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I was thinking that Jason’s behaviour will have a bearing on the judgement when it comes to court. Not only did he leave me, but he had an affair while we were trying for a baby and he got another woman pregnant. It’s entirely his fault the marriage has broken down, and I’m hoping that will sway the judge to award the house to me.”

Collette sighed and pulled a reluctant face. Abby’s heart sank at the sight.

“I’m afraid that his behaviour will not affect the distribution of the property or the assets from your marriage. It might affect the amount of maintenance you will have to pay him—”

“Surely not!” interrupted Abby, her blood pressure starting to rise from what was already a high point after her journey. “How can he do all that and I lose my home? That can’t be right!”

“If you’d bought the house before you’d met him then it would be separate property and dealt with differently. As it is, the judge will most probably award a fifty-fifty split. The only time marital property would not be equally distributed is in the case of a major felony, and this doesn’t count as that.”

“He cheats and destroys my life and moves on with another woman and I’m the one left homeless?” Abby was so distressed by this realisation she couldn’t articulate it any further. She sat with her head in her hands, trying not to cry.

“There is something we can try. It won’t affect the judgement in terms of the property distribution if it goes to court, but it might give us leverage to settle out of court. It’s only if the divorce goes before the judge and you haven’t been able to agree that the judge will decide on behalf of you and Jason.”

“He’s never going to agree to not having half the house. He has a girlfriend and a baby to provide for, and I’m the one going to be paying for them!”

Collette reached across the table, put a calming hand on Abby’s arm. “Listen to me. Based on what you have told me about the last year or so of your relationship and this current state of affairs I believe we have the grounds to sue him for intentional infliction of emotional distress.”

“What does that mean?” said Abby, her interest piqued.

“It means that firstly we will contest his no-fault divorce and file our own petition on the grounds of his adultery. Secondly, we will sue him, separately from the divorce, for causing you emotional distress through his actions. We’ll request damages and with any luck frighten him enough into negotiating a maintenance-only ongoing support, and a minimum amount at that.”

“We can do that?”

“Yes, but it won’t be easy. We will need evidence. We need a witness to his adultery – someone who has seen him with this woman and can attest to their affair.”

“They’re about to have a child together!”

“Yes, but proving it’s his might be difficult.”

“Surely his name will be on the birth certificate.”

Collette shook her head. “When he finds out what we’re doing he might opt to leave his name off the certificate, and we can’t compel him to provide a DNA sample. The point is, we need proof. Proof of his affair, proof of paternity of the child. We also need proof of the distress this has caused you.”

“I have friends, I suppose, who can testify to my state of mind,” she said, thinking about Indra and Marcus, who were the only people other than Jason who knew that any of this was happening.

“That’s good, but medical evidence would be the best thing. You’re a doctor, you work with doctors. Get proof of the physical effects of his behaviour. Headaches, migraines, loss of appetite, whatever you can do.”

Abby had experienced those things and more, including sleeplessness, but she had no way to prove it, hadn’t spoken to another doctor about it. “I—”

“Don’t tell me about it yet. Do it, get me the evidence.”

“Okay. What about finding the proof of his affair? I didn’t record my conversations with him. There were some people on the street when I confronted him, but I wouldn’t know who they were.”

“Hire someone, a private detective, someone like that. I can give you a few contacts if you like.”

“I, erm, I know a guy in that line of work actually.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s great then. Call him. If we respond to the divorce petition with a petition of our own, then we have another twenty days before he has to respond and we have to do anything about it. Once we have his response, we’ll prepare the separate lawsuit. With any luck, the baby will be born by then and he’ll be named on the certificate.”

She closed her folder with a snap, smiled at Abby, seemingly happy with how the meeting had gone. Abby was feeling shellshocked and uncertain. She was still processing the fact that Jason seemed to have more rights than she did, and she wasn’t at all sure why she’d mentioned she knew a private detective instead of taking the recommendations from Collette. Hiring Marcus to investigate her ex-husband was probably a really bad idea. Nevertheless she smiled in response, and stood, taking the proffered hand of Collette and shaking it firmly.

“Thank you for your help,” she said.

“Of course. Suing him could be expensive, but I have a feeling he’ll give in before it gets to court. We’ll get rid of him with minimum pain to you.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Do your part. Be ruthless and we’ll get him.”

“I will. I’ll be in touch.”

Abby left the lawyer’s office in a daze. She sat on the quieter subway back to Forest Hills and went over every aspect of the conversation. On reflection, she felt more confident at the prospects of keeping her home. There was a clear plan, and it had a chance of working. She really shouldn’t employ Marcus. There were tons of private detective agencies in New York; she should approach one of them. He was her client, and it wouldn’t be ethical to work with him outside of that. On the other hand, he already knew the situation, and she trusted him. The fewer people who knew her private business the better as far as she was concerned.

It could lead to trouble for her though if she was found out. Was she prepared for that? He might not want to take the case; it wasn’t as if he had a lot of time even with his new investigator. It took the length of the journey for her to make up her mind, and even then she wasn’t certain she’d stick to her decision.

\---

While Abby was travelling to meet with her lawyer, Kane was planning a journey of his own, but was struggling to get as far as the front door. His problem wasn’t smelly commuters or inattentive cab drivers but a very reluctant Nathan, who wouldn’t let him leave.

The day before, Kane had received a text from the mysterious HM telling him to meet her at the yacht club in New Rochelle. Why she wanted to meet him all the way up in Westchester County he didn’t know; perhaps she lived there, but he doubted it. No self-respecting potential mole would meet a contact on their own doorstep. He was happy to go because it was only a twenty-minute drive from Glen Oaks and had nice views over Long Island Sound. That was if he ever made it.

“Nate, you’ll be fine with Mrs Jones,” he said, kneeling before the crying boy. “You’re going to do some painting and when I get back you can show me what you’ve done. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“I don’t want you to go!” he wailed, throwing his arms around Kane.

Kane hugged him back, whispered gently to him. “I promise you I will come back. You’ll be so busy painting you won’t even miss me.”

“No,” sobbed Nathan, and he clung to Kane’s neck even as Kane started to stand.

“We’re gonna have some fun boy,” said Mrs Jones, coming over and trying to peel Nathan from around Kane.

“Don’t want you, want Marcus,” he said, pushing her away.

“Nate, I have to go to work just for a short time. I will come back. I won’t let you down.”

When he finally managed to stand, Nathan flung himself on the floor crying and screaming and Kane lasted no longer than two seconds before he was kneeling and scooping him up, unable to bear the boy’s pain any longer.

“Okay, okay. I won’t leave you.” He held him tight, stroking his hair and pressing soft kisses to the top of his head, his face being invisible because it was buried in Kane’s jacket.

“I have to go to this meeting,” he said to Mrs Jones. “It’s important.”

“I’ll comfort him; he’ll get over it.”

Kane looked down at the still sobbing Nathan. “No, it’s too soon. I haven’t prepared him for it.” He sighed, thought his options through for a moment. “You’ll have to come with me.”

“To your work?”

“To my meeting. It’s at a yacht club in daylight. There won’t be any danger.”

“I’m up for an adventure. Let me tell my Humphrey I’ll be gone otherwise he’ll wonder where I am.”

“It’s nice he worries about you,” said Kane as Mrs Jones headed down the stairs.

“He doesn’t worry about me, just his stomach. He’ll be expecting his lunch at twelve on the dot.”

When she’d gone, Kane put Nathan down and knelt before him again. “I’m sorry I said I’d leave you with Mrs Jones. We’re not ready I see that now. How would you like to go for a drive in the car with me instead? We can go to the seaside.”

“Yeah?” said Nathan, looking up at Kane with watery eyes and a big bubble of snot hanging from his nose. His hand moved towards his face to wipe it away which Kane knew from experience would result in it smearing everywhere so he took a tissue from his pocket with practised speed, wiped it away quickly before the boy could reach it or object.

“Yeah. We’ll take Mrs Jones and I just have to say hello to a friend, but we’ll be together, okay?”

“Okay.” With that he was smiling again, excited at the prospect of a trip.

Ten minutes later everyone was bundled into the car. Nathan in his chair in the front seat, Mrs Jones behind Kane. When he looked in the rear-view mirror to set off he couldn’t even see the top of her head she was so small. He briefly wondered if she should have a booster seat too.

The rain started to clear on the drive to New Rochelle. Nate wanted to listen to his favourite CD but Kane’s car was old and only had a radio. Mrs Jones started singing The Wheels on the Bus and Nathan added his high, sweet voice. They went through a repertoire of songs about ducks and fish and kittens and farm animals three times, Kane reluctantly joining in on the second round to stop Nathan pestering him. The journey passed surprisingly quickly, Kane grateful that the dreaded Baby Shark hadn’t made an appearance on the bill.

They were late pulling into the Yacht Club thanks to the delayed start, and Nathan was desperate for a pee because he’d refused to go before they left, so Kane pulled up close to the entrance of the café and dashed in with him, heading straight for the restrooms. When he came out, he scanned the room, having no idea what his contact would look like. About half the tables were occupied, but only one had a lone female sitting at it. She had long, blonde wavy hair and looked to be in her late twenties. She glanced at Kane, Nathan and Mrs Jones, then looked away again. Kane sat Nathan and Mrs Jones at a table then went over to her.

“I’m Marcus Kane,” he said, hoping he didn’t have the wrong person and she would think he was hitting on her.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and she looked around again to where he’d left his strange little family.

“Really?”

“Yes. I take it you’re HM?”

“Harper McIntyre, yes.” She held out her hand and Kane shook it. “You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry. My son... well, Sinclair’s son, Nate, he didn’t want me to leave. He has separation anxiety after the accident and the long story short is I had to bring him and our neighbour with me. She babysits him while I work. I’ve never left him since...” He trailed off because Harper was frowning, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

“You could have cancelled.”

“I didn’t want to let you down, and it was all very last minute.”

“I see.” She looked him up and down, probably wondering what kind of man brought his child to a clandestine meeting.

“I thought it would be safe given the setting,” he mumbled, feeling guilty and wondering whether he’d made a terrible mistake. Was he putting them in danger?

“Oh no, yes. I understand. Shall we get on with it then?”

“Yes, let me just settle them down with some snacks.”

He bought drinks and cakes for Nathan and Mrs Jones and a coffee for himself. He sat in the chair next to the boy briefly. “I’m going to talk to a friend. I’ll just be over there, and you can see me at all times, okay. If you want me, you come and get me.”

Nathan nodded, and Kane kissed his head before returning to Harper. He sat opposite her so he could see Nathan and took a sip of his coffee.

“The kid is cute. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,” Harper said, drinking her own coffee.

She had hazel eyes and wore a lot of makeup, but the light streaming in from the window revealed the shadows beneath it, the puffy skin of the tired and sleepless. Kane knew it well.

“It’s been difficult, although it’s, erm...” He glanced at Nathan, saw him colouring in his picture book with Mrs Jones, and smiled.

“I get it.” Harper nodded, smiled sadly at him.

Kane took out his notebook, keen to get what information out of her he could before she changed her mind. “Have you brought the paperwork we discussed on the phone?”

“I have.” She reached into her bag and took out a large, padded envelope. She put it on the table, folded her hands on top of it. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know until I’ve looked at it.”

She stared at him for a long moment, sighed, then slid the envelope across the table. Kane pulled it towards him. “What’s your role at C&F?” he asked.

“I’m a Finance Manager, not at executive level, but I report directly to the Board and oversee payroll and expenses.”

Kane opened the envelope, took out the contents. It was the personal bank statements of the CEO, Bill Cadogan, as promised, and paperwork relating to Empire Foods Inc.

“You’re claiming that Empire Foods is a front company. What makes you think that, and what do you think these payments are for?” said Kane as he looked through the papers. Certain transactions had been underlined in yellow highlighter.

“I know because he asked me to set the company up, and I believe the payments are for prostitutes.”

Kane’s head snapped up in surprise; he hadn’t been expecting that answer. “He asked you to set it up? He trusts you that much?”

“He doesn’t trust me as such. He has something on me, or he thinks he does. That’s how he controls everybody, through a kind of implicit blackmail. You can’t tell on him because then your own misdeeds will be brought out into the open.”

“And what are your misdeeds?”

She twirled the ends of her long hair, looked for a moment as though she was going to put them in her mouth and suck on them and then decided better of it.

“A couple of years ago my boyfriend at the time embezzled some money from me. He worked at C&F as well, it’s where we met. Mr Cadogan’s secretary found me upset one day and I told her what had happened. The next thing, I was called into his office. He offered to help me if I didn’t go to the police, didn’t want the publicity for the company. I agreed because I thought it was a nice thing for him to offer to do and it would solve my problems without anyone having to know about it. Mr C said all I had to do was set up this company, and he would use it to get the money back from my boyfriend. I didn’t know how he was going to do it and I suppose I kind of knew deep down it was dodgy, but I wasn’t thinking straight, and I went along with it.

“I soon found out I was named as a partner in this company, Empire Foods, and pretty quickly after that I realised it was a money laundering scheme and I was up to my neck in it.”

“That seems like a lot of trouble for him to go to in order to set up a front company,” said Kane, sceptical as to the truth of Harper’s story. She was making herself blameless in all of this, but was she really that naïve?

“It’s what he does. It’s how he builds loyalty around him. My boyfriend disappeared around the time this happened, and I don’t have proof of this, but I suspect Mr C set him up to take my money so I would be in his debt.”

Sinclair had suspected HM had a personal vendetta against the CEO and what she’d said seemed to confirm that. “How did Sinclair find you?”

“We kind of found each other. I’ve been doing my own research on Mr C and I was following him one day when I noticed a guy I’d seen a couple of times who had no obvious reason for being where he was. He saw me at the same time, must have recognised me in the same way. We spoke briefly. Next thing I knew he was dead, and I decided not to continue with my investigation.”

“But you’ve clearly changed your mind since. Why?”

“I don’t know. That conversation with you, when you said his son was traumatised and you were bringing him up. It kind of hit me I suppose. I’d taken a week off work because I was scared Mr C knew about me as well.”

“Do you think he does?”

“No. I’ve been back a while now and everything is the same as before. Of course, he could be biding his time.”

“If he is responsible for Sinclair’s death then he acted pretty quickly. I suspect he’d have done something by now if he was going to.”

“I hope that’s the case.”

Kane looked across at Nathan and Mrs Jones. What Harper had given him was a start, but it wasn’t enough. He had to link Cadogan more concretely to the underage girls and the motel.

“Harper, we believe the women involved in this aren’t prostitutes, or at least they’re not willingly selling themselves. They’re underage girls, some as young as fourteen, and they’re going missing.”

“What?” Her face crumpled at his words, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

“I’m afraid so. We need solid evidence that will connect him to the motel involved and to the girls if we can.”

“I can’t. I just... I don’t have that kind of information.”

“No, but you could get it, and you could listen, talk to other people, discreetly of course, see what you can find out.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek, shook her head. “I can’t do that, Mr Kane. You’re asking too much.”

“You’ve already done a lot, I realise that, and I know it’s a risk, but there are other lives at stake, young innocent girls, people like Sinclair, who didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

His voice had a desperate tone, and he knew it was cruel in some ways pushing her like this, asking her to risk her job, possibly her life, but no one would ever help him if he didn’t persuade them, and this was personal now. The most personal it could ever be.

“Please,” he said.

Nathan chose that moment to come over to him, bringing his colouring book. He held out his arms so Kane could pick him up, settled on his knee looking at Harper shyly.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the scribbles he’d done over a picture of Peter the Rabbit.

“I love it,” replied Kane, stroking his hair absentmindedly. “Great use of colour.”

Harper sighed deeply, causing Nathan to look up at her again.

“Okay,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Kane, relieved.

Harper stood to put on her coat. Kane took Nathan back to Mrs Jones, then followed her outside. She stood in a grassy part of the car lot, took out a cigarette, offering one to Kane but he declined.

“You’d better not have brought him to pull at my heartstrings,” she said, nodding towards the café.

“I wouldn’t. He’s everything to me.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“You’ll be in touch then?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s make it weekly, so I know you’re okay, even if it’s just a text.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from me?” she said, blowing out a long stream of smoke.

“Whatever I have to.”

She nodded, threw the cigarette down and ground it with her heel. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“It won’t,” said Kane, with more confidence than he actually felt.

“I have notes of my investigation. I’ll email them to you.” With that she left.

Kane watched her go, taking a few moments to gather himself and ponder his next moves, then returned to the café.

“Who wants to see the sea?” he said in an upbeat voice.

“Meeee!” shouted Nathan.

Kane gathered him up, swung him around then put him down so he could button him into his winter gear. The rain had cleared, and a weak sun was out. They spent a couple of hours in Hudson Park next to the marina. Kane bought a bucket and two spades from the store and they dug holes in the sand on the beach, made shapeless castles and moats with no water. He’d had no practice at this kind of thing and couldn’t believe how pathetic he was at it. Maybe the sand was the wrong kind, not stiff enough or something like that. He fetched endless buckets of water from the sea but by the time he got back with the next one the water had soaked into the sand.

Nathan didn’t seem to mind, had a lot of fun flicking the sand up with his spade, running around trying to find seashells on the lifeless beach, coming back instead with stones and bits of discarded plastic with which to decorate the crumbling sandcastles. Mrs Jones sat on a bench nearby and took photos of them with Kane’s phone.

When he looked through them later, he realised they were the first he had of him and Nathan. No doubt there were some of him with the boy when Nate was born somewhere in the house because he remembered Emma taking them. These were the first of the two of them in their new life together. Father and son.

He made a small print of one where they were crouching behind the sandcastle, cheek to cheek, smiling proudly. He didn’t have a laminator, so he glued it to some card and covered it with clear tape before slotting it into his wallet.

\---

That night, Abby sat at her kitchen table, a glass of wine in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She was staring at the contact details of Marcus Kane, debating whether to press the button and call him and tell him what Collette had recommended her to do about Jason. There was no way around the fact that what she wanted to do was an ethical violation. In fact, she’d already committed boundary violations when she’d burdened him with personal information and seen him outside of the hospital setting. She hadn’t planned it, but she should have told him to go home, she never should have told him everything, let him hug her, take her out to the park with him and Nathan.

It was too late for all of that now. Hiring him to work for her was another violation, and she’d by necessity have to give him more personal information, see him outside of her office, and why was she even contemplating this? It was clear cut what she should do, and yet here she was, staring at his number, drinking wine to fortify herself so she could blow her ethical obligations out of the window. She wanted to see him, that was why. Admit it. She liked him, she wanted to spend time with him and Nate, she wanted something, friendship maybe, comfort, mutual support. Sometimes in the dead of night when she was lying sleepless in her bed thinking about him, she thought he wanted the same. It wasn’t anything more than that. It was a mutual need to be connected to someone.

He wasn’t technically her client, that was what she was currently rationalising to herself. Nathan was her client, and Marcus had signed the papers on his behalf. There was no doubt it would be wrong in the spirit of the law, but would it actually be a violation? Technically? Really? Would it result in a telling off rather than a dismissal? Who would ever find out?

At the end of the day, when she really considered it, she was the one giving out the personal information, she was the one inviting him into her life. She wasn’t exploiting him in any way. If anything, she was putting herself at risk. He already knew most of it anyway. It was already too late.

She pressed the button to call him, knowing full well she was always going to do it. The past hours thinking it over had been to excuse herself, to find reasons why it was okay. It wasn’t really okay, but she was doing it anyway.

“Abby!” he said by way of greeting, his voice tinged with surprise and concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, and she realised in that moment that things had already shifted between them, and he was now cast in the role of carer which had previously been hers alone. It was too late to go back now.

“Have you heard from your ex?”

She could hear him moving around, in the kitchen she thought. There was the clunk of a mug on the counter, the slosh of coffee into it.

“No, but that’s kind of why I’m calling. It’s awkward... I shouldn’t really.”

“I told you I’d be here for you if you needed me.”

The creak of the fridge opening and closing as he added his splash of milk, then he was padding softly across the floor to the sofa. Abby took a large gulp of her wine.

“Is it a good time?” she said.

“Yeah. Nate’s been down a while. I was reading some reports, nothing that can’t keep. How can I help?”

She told him about her visit to the lawyer, explained what was at stake regarding her house.

“That can’t be right!” he said, his shock echoing hers when she’d made the same realisation.

“I know, but it is.”

“Christ! I don’t understand why everything gets split when he hasn’t contributed anything.”

“I guess it’s to protect people who’ve been homemakers, or the lower wage earner, to make sure their years of supporting their partner are worth something.”

“Yeah, I get that I suppose. Still, from what you’ve told me you can’t put him in that category.”

“No, but that doesn’t matter in the eyes of the law. The thing is, my lawyer thinks there’s a way out of it if I sue him separately.”

He listened without commenting while she explained the plan.

“So, Collette said I need evidence to support my case. Proof of his adultery, proof of paternity, and of my emotional distress.”

“I see,” said Marcus.

“Yes, so, that’s kind of why I’m calling you.”

“You want me to investigate him for you?”

Abby’s stomach did a somersault because this was the moment; there was no going back after this. “Yes, if you’re available. I know you’re busy with everything and it’s a lot to ask, so it’s fine if you—”

“Of course I’ll do it,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m happy to help.”

“Oh, great, thanks,” she said, relieved because now things were moving forwards. She’d taken her first steps in her battle with Jason, a fight she was determined to win.

“I can probably do most of the work myself, but I might have to use my investigator, Raven. She’s great, very discreet and trustworthy.”

“That’s fine. I, erm... Marcus, it’s...” It was hard to know how to say what she knew she had to say.

“Abby, let me tell you one thing. As a police officer, and now as a private investigator, there’s very little I haven’t heard or seen. You don’t have to worry about anything. You can trust me.”

“I know, it’s not that. I’m Nathan’s doctor, and I have a duty to him and to you, and there are rules, and I shouldn’t... we shouldn’t even be talking about this.”

“No one will know, I promise you. Raven can file all the reports under her name, she has her own licence. No one will connect us.”

“And you don’t mind, it doesn’t bother you, you don’t feel like I’m exploiting you or anything like that?”

“I feel honoured that you’ve asked me, and that you trust me. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” she said in a soft whisper, because the relief had overwhelmed her, not because she was doing something about her situation, but because the line had been crossed with Marcus and it was all or nothing now. In a way there was less to worry about. It was done.

“It might be useful if we meet up to formulate our plan and so I can get all the information I need. I could ask Raven to come along so you can meet her and you’ll know who you’re dealing with.”

“That sounds great. Shall I come to you, is that easier?”

“If you could, yeah. What about Tuesday? We could meet before or after our therapy session.”

“I could do it afterwards yes; I don’t have any other appointments.”

“Okay, I’ll check with Raven and text you to confirm.”

“Thanks. Oh, Marcus, what about your fee, shall we discuss it when we meet?”

“There won’t be a fee,” he said.

“What? Yes there will; you can’t do it for nothing.”

“I can and I am.”

“No, that’s not right. I want to pay you, it’s only fair.”

“After everything you’ve done for me and Nate? No. This one’s on me.”

“Marcus!” she said, exasperated because he was adamant, but it was wrong to let him work for free for her, especially on top of all the other violations she was committing. “I must insist.”

He was silent on the other end of the phone which was even more infuriating. “We’ll discuss it on Tuesday,” she said.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, in a way that told her he wasn’t going to change his mind no matter what she said.

“Yes,” she replied, determined not to give in either.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Can you bring everything you’ve got pertaining to Jason no matter how small so I can see what might be useful.”

“I will, yes. I really appreciate this, Marcus,” she said, softening again because payment dispute aside, he really was doing her a huge favour.

“I’m glad you came to me. You won’t regret it.”

“I know.” She fervently hoped that was true.

“See you Tuesday, then,” he said.

“Yes. See you then.”

She ended the call and drained the rest of her glass. She was in it with Marcus now, for good or bad. There was no going back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby meets with Kane and Raven to discuss their investigation into her ex.

Abby had spent the weekend in Philadelphia, staying at a cute bed and breakfast in the historic district, touring City Hall and the Liberty Bell, walking along the waterfront, making the most of the reasonable weather. She’d taken a vacation day, arrived home late on the Monday. She couldn’t afford the time or the expense, but she’d had enough of thinking about Jason, couldn’t stand to be in the same house, same city he’d been in.

She’d thought the house meant everything to her, but she’d realised during one of her late-night thinking sessions that it wasn’t the house itself she didn’t want to lose but the legacy from her father which had paid for the house. Maybe when this was all over she’d sell up, buy something that was all hers with the money, protect it in some way so that in the unlikely event she ever met someone else she wanted to live with they wouldn’t be able to get their hands on it when it all went wrong.

Philadelphia had been a good distraction, but now she was here, sitting in her car outside Marcus’s home, and it was time to face it all again. She gathered up her bag which was bulging with paperwork and headed to the door.

Marcus answered it with a smile. “Hi,” he said. “Come on up.”

She followed him up the stairs and into the living room. It hadn’t changed much since she was last here. The bedsheets were still folded up neatly and stored down the side of the sofa. All the Sinclairs’ things remained on the shelves. There were a few differences, though. A framed leaf print like the one they’d given Abby was on the wall, next to a framed picture of Marcus and Nathan laughing together. He’d moved a table into the room, and Nathan was sitting at it, head down, scribbling.

“Look who’s here!” said Marcus and Nathan looked up.

“Hi, Docrabby. I been painting for you.” He pushed his piece of paper towards Abby so she could see it.

“That’s a beautiful painting, Nate. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It’s the sea and there’s castles and there’s you.” He pointed to a mess of squiggly brown lines with a big blue circle head which was standing next to a thin squiggly line and a black circle with a thick black line bisecting it.

“You’ve captured me well,” said Abby, glancing at Marcus who was grinning.

“At least you have some shape,” said Marcus, looking at the picture. “I’m reduced to a single line.”

“I see. You have a line on your face which I don’t have.”

“That’s my nose. He’s obsessed with it, draws it all the time,” he said, screwing up said nose in mock disapproval.

“It is a, erm, distinguished nose.”

“I’m very proud of my nose.”

“As you should be.”

“Marcus nose funny,” said Nathan, brushing black paint all over the face.

“You’re the funny one,” Marcus replied, ruffling his hair. “I’ve got a pot of coffee on, would you like one?” he said, turning to Abby.

“I would love one, thanks.”

She followed him into the kitchen, mainly to check its condition, although everything else in the house was neat and tidy. The kitchen was the same. Two of Nathan’s scribble pictures were tacked to the fridge. Marcus seemed to be coping well.

The man himself handed Abby her coffee and leant back against the counter. “How has everything been since Friday?” he said.

“Okay. I went away actually, to Philadelphia.”

“Giving the car a run eh?”

“Yes.”

Marcus peered out of the kitchen window, which overlooked the street where Abby’s car was parked. “Beautiful,” he sighed.

“Shall we start our session?” said Abby, conscious that this all had a friendly feel as though she was here to spend quality time with them when she was here for business and she needed to maintain some semblance of a boundary.

“I have, erm, something I wanted to ask you while Nate’s occupied,” Marcus said, and Abby’s heart thumped.

“What is it?” she said tentatively.

He rubbed his chin which she’d come to recognise was his signature move when he was uncertain or pensive. What the hell was he going to say?

“It’s about Nate,” he said to her relief. “I, erm, I’m worried that he might be...” He puffed out a breath while he searched for a word or got up the courage to say whatever it was he needed to say. “I think he might be, kind of, precocious. I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

“In what way?”

“Erm, like physically.”

“Okay. Has something specific happened to make you think this?”

“Yeah, erm, I was giving him a bath last night and, well, he erm, he got what I can only describe as an erection. His penis kind of got bigger and stiff, and a couple of times before that I’ve caught him playing with himself.”

He looked at her with such worry in his dark brown eyes she stifled the smile that was itching to bloom on her face.

“That’s perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about.”

“Really? Cause, you know, I was ten I think before I discovered, you know, that kind of thing.”

“You will have experienced the same things, but you won’t remember. Your parents probably told you to get your hands out of your pants all the time and you did, and you’ve forgotten it. It’s natural behaviour.”

“Wow! I didn’t realise it started that early.”

“It’s not a sexual reaction, there’s nothing like that about it. Think of it like when you get an itch or you need to sneeze. Sometimes the body does things involuntarily. Touching the penis can feel pleasurable even at this age and playing with it and tugging on it is a healthy part of his development. That’s him exploring his body, finding out all the amazing things it can do. That’s a beautiful thing, I think, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said sounding unconvinced.

“The most important thing is not to make it seem like shameful behaviour. Don’t say things like ‘stop it’, or ‘don’t touch there’ because then he will think that touching his penis is wrong or there’s something illicit about it. At this age it’s an entirely innocent activity and if it embarrasses you or he does it frequently in public then the best thing is to distract him rather than tell him to stop. He will grow out of it.”

“Hmm, I have to tell you we don’t really grow out of it,” said Marcus with a shy grin.

Abby laughed. “No, well this phase he will grow out of and then when he hits puberty you’ll have to have a whole other kind of conversation with him about it.”

“Oh, jeez! Don’t say things like that!”

“You’ve got it all to come.”

He closed his eyes, rubbed a hand over his face, then opened them with a sigh. “Every day there’s something new. Some things I kind of know what to do and others...”

“You’re learning all of this together. I think it’s a wonderful thing.”

“We wouldn’t be able to do it without you.” He smiled tenderly at her and Abby wanted to close her own eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the way he looked at her.

“I don’t do anything special.”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled again, then picked up his coffee and gestured to the living room. “Shall we see what chaos he’s caused while he’s been alone?”

Abby returned to the room where Nathan was still at the table, his painting and his hands covered in a purple glitter.

“Oh, god, how did you get into that pot?” said Marcus, dashing back to the kitchen to get a cloth. “It’s all inside your cast!”

“It was open,” said Nathan, unperturbed.

“I can’t wait until this thing comes off,” Marcus said, sticking the cloth up as far as he could inside the cast. “We went yesterday for a scan but they’re not happy his arm is fully healed, so it’s another week at least. Have you seen the state of it?”

“Some of the children at the hospital like to get their cast signed or have pictures drawn on it.”

“Don’t give him that idea!” groaned Marcus as Nathan looked up at them both with a big grin on his face.

“Want picture,” he said, holding out the blue cast.

“You can deal with that,” said Marcus to Abby, heading into the kitchen.

Abby took a yellow sharpie from a tin on the table, drew a smiley face on the cast. “To Rocket Man Nate,” she said as she wrote. “Love Doctor Abby.” She added a heart in red and an approximation of a crab with sticking out pincers.

“Why the crab?” said Marcus, admiring her handiwork.

“The way he says my name. Doc Crabby,” she said, laughing, because it amused her every time he said it, though she hadn’t told Marcus until now.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll have to add my own thing.”

He drew a rocket ship and a crescent moon. _To infinity and beyond! Marcus_. he wrote, adding a couple of kisses as an afterthought.

“Can I ask you something?” said Abby, interested in what he’d written or rather what he hadn’t written.

“Course.”

“It’s clear to me that you love Nate.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, looking sharply at her. “Why?”

“Have you ever told him?”

“I...” He frowned. “I, erm, well it’s... I guess no. It’s not like I don’t love him like you say.”

“No.”

“But I’m not great at that kind of thing and it feels like...” He paused struggling to find the right words. Abby thought she knew what he wanted to say, but she kept quiet, let him find his way to it. “It’s like, that’s what his mom and dad would say, and I don’t want to take that away from him.”

“I get that, and it’s nice that you care about such things, but they’re not here to say it, are they? And you ARE his dad. You’re allowed to tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, okay.” He picked Nathan up, stood with him held tightly in his arms.

“Your love for him shines in everything you do, don’t get me wrong, but he needs to hear it as well.”

“You’re right. I will. I’ll do it.”

“Just when it feels natural.”

“Yes, thanks.”

He stood awkwardly with the boy. He found it hard to hear that he was doing something the wrong way or not as well as he could be doing it. Abby had concluded he was a perfectionist, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t take criticism, more that he found it annoying he needed to receive it in the first place.

“Where do you want us for our session?” he said.

“I think we’re already having our session,” she said, smiling to put him at ease.

They moved to the sofa and talked through his week and Nate’s nightmares. Abby decided as she listened to him that it had been a good thing coming to see him at his home. He was less guarded here, less prepared, and she could observe better the things he left out or tried to hide when he came to see her at the hospital. She should consider doing this at least once or twice with her other patients if they were willing.

The hour passed quickly, and it wasn’t until there was a buzz of the door that Abby remembered she was also here to talk about Jason.

“Door!” shouted Nathan.

“I know!” laughed Marcus, heading towards the stairs.

\---

Kane returned to the living room with Raven in tow. She was dressed as usual as though she was going into combat with her black combat trousers and boots. Her bright red puffer jacket he hadn’t seen before.

“Like the jacket,” he said.

“Thanks. Keeps me warm when I’m stuck in the car for hours.”

“I hear ya. This is Doctor Abby Griffin,” he said, gesturing towards Abby who had stood to greet Raven. “Abby, this is Raven Reyes, my chief investigator.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Griffin,” said Raven, extending her hand.

“It’s Abby, and thank you for agreeing to help with my situation.”

“Of course. Kane has filled me in on some of the background. I’m more than happy to help you get rid of him. Not literally.” She laughed, and Abby smiled.

Kane excused himself to go to the kitchen and make drinks for everyone, followed by Nathan.

“Is Raven and Docrabby gonna play with us?” he said.

“They’re here to do some work with me, but I’ll play with you afterwards. We can do some LEGO if you like.”

He screwed his nose up at the prospect. “Can I have cookie?”

Kane couldn’t exactly refuse him when he was emptying a packet onto a plate for the women. “Okay, just the one.”

Abby and Raven were sitting on the sofa talking about Jason when he returned with the coffees and cookies. He sat in the armchair, was surprised when Nathan asked to sit on his knee.

“Don’t you want to play with Buzz or Woody?”

“No.”

Nathan chewed on his cookie, dropping crumbs all over Kane’s legs, and watched intently as though he was listening to and understanding everything Abby and Raven said. Kane put his arms around him to hold him in place.

“I had a chat with Raven after we spoke, and she convinced me that it’s better for you and for us if we do this properly and above board,” he said to Abby. “So, I’ve drawn up a contract like I do with all my clients. It’s between you and Raven so there’s no paper trail between us, and you will pay Raven her standard fee for the hours she works on your case. Would you mind, Raven?”

He pointed to a folder that contained the contract and Raven opened it and handed it to Abby.

“That sounds great,” she said.

“Any work I do on the case won’t be charged. It’s my payment to you for everything you’ve done for me and Nate. It’s not up for discussion.”

He looked at her with a fixed determination in the hope she wouldn’t have the heart to argue with him. She looked as though she might for a moment, stared back into his eyes, then she gave a brief nod.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice rough tinged.

“Abby, I want to outline my plan for getting the information you need,” said Raven. “I take it you’ve brought the relevant paperwork?”

“Yeah, I’ve got our marriage certificate and his social security number. I found a photocopy of his passport from when I applied for a loan, and I’ve got all the information about the IVF we underwent as well. I don’t know if that will be useful.” She glanced at Kane as she said this.

“We won’t read anything unless we feel it’s necessary,” he said to reassure her he wasn’t about to completely invade her privacy.

“Okay, thanks,” she said looking relieved.

“You saw him in Jackson Heights. Do you know where he’s living now?” asked Raven.

“He’s supposed to be with a friend in Greenwich Village but clearly he’s not. He told this girl, Anne-Marie, to go to the apartment and I got the feeling it was close by. This was when we were on seventy-fourth street near its junction with thirty-fourth.”

“Okay, then my first task is to go up to Jackson Heights and see if I can find where they’re living. I’ll check my online sources as well though if he was trying to keep this from you I doubt he’s left much of a paper trail. Does he have a credit card?”

“He does and its linked to his own bank account. He did get paying jobs now and then, though they weren’t big earners, and I topped up the account so he’d have his own money. I never wanted him to feel like he was beholden to me, although he said that’s how he felt.”

“And he still has access to that account now?”

“Erm, yes. I didn’t want to leave him without anything you know, even though...”

Raven nodded, scribbled in her notebook. Abby watched her, not looking at Kane though he felt as though she wanted to. She’d been far too kind and generous to her useless husband, wanting to take care of him even though he’d left her and said all those terrible things to her. Kane was struggling to understand it because she seemed like such a confident, outgoing person and so strong. He couldn’t imagine her putting up with that kind of behaviour. She’d been with him a long time he supposed, was young when they met. Love was a powerful drug, made idiots out of the best of people and he saw its effects every day in his job. He’d never been in love himself, not properly, so maybe that was why he was finding it hard to relate to Abby regarding her ex.

He looked down at a suspiciously quiet Nathan. He’d fallen asleep, soggy half-chewed cookie in hand. Kane adjusted his position slightly so the boy fell into the crook of his arm and he could hold his coffee, at least he could if he could reach it.

“Abby,” he whispered, and she turned sad, brown eyes on him. Crinkles appeared around them when she saw the sleeping Nathan and smiled.

“Bless him,” she said softly.

“Can you pass me my coffee?” said Kane, and he took it from her gratefully when she passed it.

He sat and listened for the most part as Abby and Raven discussed the case in hushed tones. When the plan was agreed, and the contract signed, Raven stood to go.

“I’ll see myself out,” she whispered. “It was lovely to meet you, Abby. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Raven left and Kane was alone with Abby and Nathan again. It was quiet apart from Nathan’s soft snores and the shuffle of paper as Abby cleared away the things Raven didn’t think she’d need.

“Are you sure you’re okay with all this?” said Kane.

“Yeah. I want him out of my life, Marcus. I’m not paying for his new family, there’s no way.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I know you will. You’ve been very kind.”

“Not at all.” He thought she would make to leave, but she sat back against the sofa.

“That’s a nice photo of the two of you,” she said, nodding towards the wall where he’d put a larger print of him and Nathan.

“We went to the seaside. Mrs Jones took it. I discovered I’m no good at making sandcastles.”

“I bet Nate had fun though.”

“Oh, yeah. First time we’ve had a trip; it was nice.”

“Nothing like the seaside in October,” she said, stifling a giggle.

“It was bracing!” Kane’s chest heaved as he tried not to laugh and Nathan stirred. Kane glanced at Abby, tried to work out what she wanted. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having spaghetti, the proper stuff, not the hoops.”

“Another time maybe.” She stood, reached for her coat.

Kane eased himself out of his chair with a sleepy Nathan still in his arms. Having a child gave him a better work out than any gym. “Thanks for today.”

“No, thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

She hovered awkwardly near the stairs and Kane leaned across, pulled her into a half hug with Nathan squashed between them. She put her hand on his back, rubbed it briefly.

“Take care,” he said.

“You too. Bye, Nate.”

The boy mumbled a sleepy “bye” in response.

When Abby had gone, Kane resisted the temptation to go to the window and watch her get into her car. Instead he sat at the table with Nathan, opened the LEGO police car he’d bought that first day and hadn’t had chance to do anything with yet. He was looking forward to it, had loved building when he was a kid.

“Let’s play!” he said, receiving a slow, unenthusiastic blink in response from Nathan.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane and Nate don their fancy dress costumes and attend Abby's Halloween party at the hospital.

“I hope this is okay for you, Marcus,” said Mrs Jones as she laid out two Halloween costumes on the sofa.

Kane looked them over, smiling at Nate’s, grimacing at his, not because it wasn’t good, it was brilliant he had to admit, but because of the fact that he had to wear it.

“They look fantastic, thank you,” he said, kissing her snowy white head.

“Nice of Doctor Abby to invite you both.”

“I expect she’s invited all her patients.”

“There won’t be any as handsome as you and Nathan.” She picked up Kane’s costume on its hanger, held it against him, examined it with a critical eye.

“I’m not sure I’m going to look attractive in this,” he grumbled, looking at the yellow and red checked shirt and ridiculous cow hide waistcoat of his Woody from Toy Story outfit.

“Nonsense. You’d look good in anything. She won’t be able to resist you.”

“I don’t know where you get this idea that there’s something between us from.”

“From seventy years of life experience. Now go and get yourselves dressed so I can see if there are any last-minute adjustments to make.”

Kane took the outfits into Sinclair’s bedroom. He stripped to his boxers then pulled on an old pair of blue jeans he’d found in Sinclair’s chest of drawers, knowing his old friend wouldn’t mind. He’d loved Halloween, refused to work on the night itself even before Nathan was born, wanting to be at home ready for the neighbourhood kids to call. Kane on the other hand hadn’t bothered with the holiday since he was a kid, didn’t see the point in giving sugar to already hyperactive children. He was doing it this year to honour Sinclair’s tradition, and because Abby had invited them.

He tucked the shirt into the jeans, pulled on the stupid waistcoat. Mrs Jones really had done a wonderful job. He’d tried to make the costumes himself; at least he’d poked around in Sinclair’s wardrobe, found nothing useful except the jeans. Nathan had the Buzz Lightyear pyjamas Kane had bought him in Target and he’d figured that would do for him, and he’d tried to craft some wings. He’d admitted defeat after it had taken him two attempts to get anything that looked remotely like a pair of Buzz wings, and had approached Mrs Jones to ask her if she’d make the rest of the costumes. Two days later he and Nate were standing with arms out and legs wide like two grumpy starfish, being measured up for their outfits.

Kane smiled at the memory. He’d paid for the materials needed and promised he’d take her out for dinner wherever she wanted to go. They were booked in next Friday at a Caribbean restaurant in Hollins. Kane was looking forward to it as he hadn’t been anywhere decent in a while, though he wasn’t sure if Nate would eat restaurant food that wasn’t McDonalds.

He fastened the holster he’d bought on eBay around his waist and tied a red handkerchief around his neck. The final humiliation was the fake leather cowboy boots and hat. He looked at himself in the mirror, decided that any tiny amount of attraction Abby might have for him would be gone the instant she saw him in this.

“You have to do this,” he said to his reflection. “Nate!” he shouted. “Come and get ready!”

Nathan ran in completely naked, a big grin on his face.

“Where are your clothes? Where are your underpants?” asked a confused Kane who had left the boy fully dressed ten minutes before.

“I was pooping!” he proclaimed proudly.

“Did Ya Ya deal with you?”

“You’re Woody!” he said, standing with his hands on his hips looking Kane over.

Kane got no answer from Nathan as to whether he’d somehow used the toilet himself, so was forced to check he was clean before retrieving a pair of Huggies and pulling them on.

“I want put this on,” Nathan said, picking up the white long-sleeved t-shirt Mrs Jones had painted to look like the top half of Buzz’s spacesuit.

“We have to put the hoody on first then the shirt.” Kane pulled a purple hoody over Nathan’s head followed by the shirt. He held out a pair of white pyjama bottoms for him to step into, pulled them so that he partially lifted Nathan off the floor at the same time.

“You’re flying!” he said.

“Need my wings!”

The wings looked shoddy in comparison to the rest of the outfit, but Kane was proud of them because he’d made them himself. “Turn around,” he said, and he tried to attach them to the back of the t-shirt, but they kept falling off.

“Mrs Jones!” he shouted, and the old woman hobbled into the room.

“Oh, you look lovely!” she exclaimed, clapping with delight.

“I can’t get these dam...darned wings to fasten.”

“Let me see.” She fiddled around with Nathan and got the wings to stick. “There you go.” She made them twirl in front of her. “Two handsome boys!”

“Will you take a photo of us?” asked Kane, handing her his phone, then examining the picture after. He looked like an idiot, but Nate was undeniably cute.

“I can fly there!” said Nathan, suddenly clambering onto the bed then launching himself off.

Kane managed to grab him before he fell into a heap on the floor. “New York is a no-fly zone tonight unfortunately,” he said. “Too many witches and wizards flying around. There could be accidents.”

“Oh.” Nate looked disappointed but then Mrs Jones handed him his blaster gun and he was happy again. Whether Abby or anyone else at the hospital would be happy with the noisy gun remained to be seen.

“Okay, we’d better get going then.”

“You boys have fun.” Mrs Jones kissed Nathan’s head. “Give Abby a kiss from me,” she said to Kane with a wink.

“You really want that kind of kiss from me do you?” he said, moving towards her with puckered lips.

She slapped him away with a laugh. “If I was ten years’ younger.”

“Only ten?”

“Young men are wasted on young women,” she said.

Kane kissed her on the cheek. “I won’t tell Humphrey you want a toyboy.”

“You tell him. As long as I give him dinner he doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, heading for the stairs with Nathan in tow.

“You tell me everything.”

“I will.”

At the car and Kane realised he’d have to take Nate’s wings off to get him into the car seat without damaging them. He only hoped he’d be able to put them on again when they got to Queen’s Hospital Centre.

\---

Abby stood inside the entrance to the cafeteria in the children’s wing of the hospital, greeting visitors and directing them to the various activities that were laid on in the large room. The event had only been open half an hour officially, but already the room was heaving with princesses and superheroes, Buzz Lightyears and Elsas, along with a few more traditional witches. A tiny Darth Vader darted past her screaming loudly followed by his or her red-faced carer.

“Can you come if you don’t have a costume?” said a harassed looking mother with three boys that looked to be under the age of five.

“You certainly can, and if you want costumes for the children there’s a wide choice in the room behind me. Take what you want.”

“For free?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Abby returned to scanning the new arrivals. Every time she saw a tall man with a child she looked to see if it was Marcus and Nathan but there was no sign of them. Maybe he’d decided not to come after all. He hadn’t mentioned it at their last session on Tuesday and she hadn’t asked.

“Doctor Abby!” came a bright, familiar voice, and Abby turned and was engulfed in a hug from Holly.

“Hey, you,” she said, giving the girl a squeeze. “How are things?”

“They’re good. I won another swimming competition.”

“That’s so great! Well done!”

“Thanks! Have you been swimming?”

“Not yet. I guess I’ve been too busy with organising this event.” She had been busy with a lot of things, but the truth was she hadn’t been able to summon the energy to find a good pool and drag herself there with any regularity.

“Everything looks wonderful, Abby,” said Barbra.

“Thanks. Go have some fun. At half past two we’re going to split into groups and tour the wards if you’re still here then. I’ll put you in my group if you want.”

“Yes, please!” said Holly.

“See you later, then.”

It seemed to Abby as though most of the predicted attendees arrived en masse over the next few minutes, and she was swamped with questions and problems from visitors and staff. When the crowd finally thinned, she leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and puffed out a long breath.

“Tired already?” said a deep voice with a hint of amusement.

She opened her eyes to see Marcus standing before her, a smirk on his face. He was dressed as Woody and somehow managed to still look handsome even with a cowhide waistcoat. The yellow shirt enhanced the colour of his olive skin, making him look suntanned and healthy. Nate was holding his hand, dressed in an adorable homemade Buzz costume complete with slightly floppy cardboard wings.

“Oh, wow!” she said, taken aback at the effort he’d put into the costumes. “Don’t you two look amazing!”

“I’m Buzz, Docrabby!” said Nate, pointing his infinity blaster at her.

“No shooting the doctor,” said Marcus. Nate looked at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. Marcus stared him down. “I mean it.”

“I think you’re the best Buzz I’ve ever seen,” said Abby to distract Nate. “I love your wings.”

“I made them,” said Marcus, looking proudly down his long nose at her.

“You’ve done a great job. Your costume is great too. I especially love your hat.”

“Yeah?” Marcus took off his cowboy hat, bowed his head, then replaced it. “Thank you, ma’am.” His eyes roamed Abby’s costume. “Are you not wearing a costume?”

Abby gestured at herself in horror at his words. “Have you seen me in a pink skirt and spotted leggings before?”

“Well, no.”

“Look at my shoes!” she said, gesturing to the pink sparkly converse trainers she’d bought especially. “And my hair!” She’d fastened her hair in two side braids, gelled the ends so they stuck up, put a purple headband atop her head.

“You’ve got the, erm, white coat, and the stethoscope thing. I thought you were being bright for the event,” Marcus stuttered.

“You Docstuffin,” said Nathan.

“I’m Doc McStuffin, yes,” said Abby. “Well done, Nate.”

“Sorry,” said a sheepish Marcus. “I don’t think I’ve seen that show.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“You look great. Pink suits you.” He grinned, looking as mischievous as Nate had a moment ago.

“Thank you,” said Abby, glancing behind them to see a couple of people waiting to speak to her. “There’s lots to do in here. You can paint a pumpkin or get your face painted, and there’s games and other things to try. At two thirty we’re splitting into groups to visit the wards and hand out candy to the patients who can’t make it down here, and there’s some singing and some other fun stuff after that as well. I can put you in my group if you like.”

“Sounds great,” said Marcus, putting a protective hand on Nathan’s shoulder.

“Meet you back here at two thirty if I don’t see you before.”

“We’ll be here.”

“How can I help you?” Abby said, turning to the people behind Marcus and Nate.

She scanned the room afterwards, spotted them at the craft table, Marcus standing behind Nate while he painted a plastic pumpkin. Things were shifting in her relationship with him, it was undeniable. Their conversations were teasing, easy, relaxed. She felt like she’d known him a long time, but it had been what, eight weeks if that? It was natural because the doctor-patient relationship was an intimate one, where the patient bared their soul more often than not. Even someone like Marcus, who was generally quite buttoned up, said more than they probably realised. It was a false intimacy usually, though, one that lasted during the session and then was put aside until the following time. It didn’t feel like that was the case here. Of course, she’d made it more intimate by baring her own soul to him.

“Doctor Griffin, there’s a problem with the sound system,” said a young staff nurse who was coordinating the music.

“I’ll come and take a look,” said Abby, glancing at her watch. She had plenty of time before the next phase of proceedings.

\---

“Would you like your face painted, Buzz?” asked a young woman sitting at a table scattered with paint pots in a multitude of colours.

Nathan looked up at Kane as if to ask permission.

“If you want,” replied Kane.

He watched, fascinated, while the girl expertly painted a butterfly curving around one of Nate’s eyes and a caterpillar crawling around the other. It was an unfamiliar world, this one of excitable children and stressed parents, of painting everything in sight, and organised children’s games. There was nothing like this when Kane was a kid. He vaguely remembered one Halloween being shoved into black pants and a black vest with a plastic mask from the dollar store covering his eyes and being sent out unsupervised with Sinclair to roam the streets of their project asking for candy. Sinclair was similarly attired, only in red, and together they’d made a ragtag Batman and Spiderman.

He glanced towards the entrance while he was waiting for Nate, saw Abby was still there, talking to everyone that came in, always a smile on her face even though she must be exhausted. Kane would have had enough five minutes into proceedings, if indeed he’d last that long. She was one of those people who were genuinely warm. Kane on the other hand knew he was often seen as being cold, mainly because he used to be very focused and had no time for idiots.

“Would daddy like his face painted too?” he heard the girl saying.

“Oh, no,” he said, feeling awkward not only at the thought of having his face painted but that she’d called him daddy in front of Nate. He looked at the boy to gauge his reaction. He was bouncing on his toes.

“Yes, face painted!” he shouted.

“I don’t think—”

“I’ll do something more manly than a butterfly,” the girl said coyly.

When she showed him his face in the mirror afterwards, he saw she’d drawn an intricate spider’s web around his eye, with a fat evil-looking spider dangling from it and resting on his cheek.

“That’s quite cool,” he said, examining it closely.

“Thanks. You look great. I do parties and things if you want to book me, or, you know, whatever.” She handed him a card and Kane took it, put it in his pocket.

“Thanks.”

“Give me a call.”

“Yeah.”

He walked away with Nate, thinking again about a world where children’s parties had professional activities rather than musical chairs and pass the parcel. Would he be expected to do these things for Nate? Would he want them? He didn’t even have any friends at the moment apart from Frankie. It would all happen once he started school Kane supposed. There’d be parties all the time, presents expected, new clothes to be bought. Oh, god! He couldn’t do all that, really didn’t want to, but what would it mean for Nate if he didn’t? Would he be ostracised? Would he have no friends at all?

He pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind as he and Nate browsed the other stalls together, nibbling on candy and playing the games. Kane lifted the boy so he could throw a hoop over a stick and receive yet more candy as reward. There were more women than men in the room he noticed, and he was the recipient of a number of smiles and hellos and coos about how adorable he and Nate looked. All in all he found he was having a surprisingly enjoyable time.

“I need poop,” said Nathan, bringing him back to earth.

“Again?”

Nathan shrugged.

“I’m clearly feeding you too much,” he said, hurrying to the restrooms.

On his return he saw groups of people heading off in different directions around the hospital. He couldn’t see Abby and was worried he’d missed her when one of the groups spread out and there she was behind them. She caught his eye, waved him over.

“Sorry we’re late. Bathroom incident,” said Kane as he joined the group.

“You really should go before you leave home,” she said.

“I mean Nate!”

“Yes, sure.” She smiled broadly at him. “Love the face paint. Very spooky.”

“Marcus gonna call her,” said Nate to Abby.

“Call who?”

“Face lady.”

“Is he?” she looked quizzically at Kane.

“No, no,” replied Kane, a warmth spreading to his cheeks. “She does parties, gave me her card. I’m not going to call her.”

“I see.” Abby raised her eyebrows at him then turned as a child tugged on her sleeve.

“You’ve got big ears and a big mouth,” Kane whispered to Nate, taking his hand and following the group as they moved out into the hallway.

“I eat you!” he said, opening his mouth wide and baring his tiny white teeth to Kane.

“I eat YOU!” he replied, growling and pretending to bite him. Nate squealed and everyone in the group turned to look at them, including Abby who laughed.

“I knew you two would be troublemakers,” she said when they were in their designated ward. They were standing together near the exit watching as the children toured the ward, swapping candy with elderly patients who were confined to their beds. Nate had latched onto another one of Abby’s patients, a girl called Holly, and was happy following her around.

“Nate’s a terrible influence,” said Kane.

“I think you’re the terrible influence,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

“You could be right.”

“You both make me laugh.”

“Good.” They smiled at each other. “You’ve done a fantastic job here, Abby. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s been a lot of hard work.”

“I can imagine.”

“Worth it, though, when you see their faces.”

“Yeah. Nate’s really enjoyed himself. I have too actually.”

“Surprised at that, are you?”

“This is all stuff I would have run a mile from before, and I still would. It’s Nate, I guess. I enjoy being with him and seeing him have fun.”

“That’s what makes you a great dad.”

He warmed at her words, felt proud. “Thanks. The face paint girl called me daddy earlier.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” laughed Abby.

“Not like that. It was in front of Nate, and I was worried how he’d react.”

“How did he?”

“Didn’t seem bothered. I thought maybe he didn’t hear her, but he must have cause he answered her. That’s how I ended up with my face painted.”

“But it bothers you that she called you that?”

“He already has a daddy.”

“I know, and I know you don’t want to lose the memory of Sinclair for him, but you will become his dad to him, Marcus. You’re going to be that for the rest of your life.”

“I want to be that, and at the same time I don’t.”

“I think he will make his own decision when he’s ready, and I know it will hurt you in a way, but he can have two fathers, and love you both. Calling you his dad doesn’t erase Sinclair. You’re going to keep him alive for Nate and he will appreciate that and understand it I promise you.”

“Yeah,” he said, watching the boy shyly holding out his bucket for an elderly woman to drop some candy in. It still shocked him sometimes how much he loved him after such a short space of time. He’d do anything for him, kill anyone who tried to hurt him, die for him. He felt a hand on his back, rubbing it gently, turned to see Abby’s kind, caring face looking at him with concern. And then there’s you, he thought. What are you going to be?

Nate came running up to him, saving him from saying anything to Abby he would later regret.

“I got all the candy in the world!” he said, excitedly. “Look!”

Kane dutifully peered into the bucket. “Wow, that’s a LOT!”

“I gave him some of mine as well,” said Holly. “I got too much.”

“That’s kind of you, Holly,” said Abby.

“I’m swimming later so I don’t want to be sick.”

“That’s very sensible,” said Kane, pulling Nate’s hand out of the bucket as he reached for a peanut butter cup.

The tears came instantly, together with a pleading look. “One more.”

“No, I think you’ve had enough.”

“One more pleeeeease.”

“Okay, just the one.”

Nate grinned as he pulled out some Haribo, his distress a second ago instantly forgotten.

They returned with the group to the cafeteria and people started leaving. Nate’s sugar high had become a low and he clung listlessly to Kane as he said goodbye to Holly and her mother.

“We’d better go, someone’s tired,” he said to Abby.

“I’ll walk out with you; I could use some fresh air.”

Kane picked Nathan up and they headed for the exit. A man with a camera approached them.

“Love your costumes. You mind if I take your picture?”

“What for?” asked Kane, frowning.

“It’s for our website, you know, celebrating the event. You don’t have to do it,” said Abby.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.” He stood with Nate, forced a smile for the camera, figuring it would be nice to have a professional picture of them in their costumes.

“You too, Doctor Griffin, get a bit closer,” said the photographer, waving Abby towards Kane.

“I’ve been doing these all day,” she said, smiling ruefully at him.

They posed together with Nate between them, then headed out to the car. Kane fastened Nate into the child seat. He closed the door, stood looking at Abby.

“Only a couple of months ago we were standing here and you were telling me I needed a car seat,” he said.

“You’ve come a long way since then.”

“Lots of changes.”

She nodded. “Yes, for all of us.”

“Thanks for inviting us, we really enjoyed it.”

“I’m glad you came; your outfits made my day.”

“I had some help I have to admit.”

“Mrs Jones?”

“How did you guess,” he said with a laugh.

“She’s a sweetheart.”

“She’s something alright.” He sighed. “We should go.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

“You will.”

They both hesitated, and then he put his arm around her and she put hers around him and they hugged briefly. He was aware of her watching him as he drove away.

“What are we going to do about Doctor Abby?” he asked Nathan as he turned out of the parking lot, but the boy didn’t answer because he was fast asleep.

Putting Nate to bed that night took longer than usual because the boy was full of chatter about the day, his new friend, Holly, and all his candy. Kane read to him, tucked him in. He sat on the edge of the bed like he always did and leaned in to kiss his head. “Night, Nate,” he said, and then a moment later, “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it since Abby had told him he should, and the words came out easily in the end. He sat and waited for a response. Nate blinked at him, then turned over and snuggled beneath the cover. Kane smiled, then got up, smoothing the cover down.

“Like me, eh?” he whispered. “Not one for expressing your emotions.” He kissed the side of Nate’s head, then left.

In the living room he fired up his laptop and visited the hospital’s website, found the photographs of the day. The one of him, Abby and Nate was there. Abby was smiling warmly. She was a whole head shorter than Kane; he hadn’t realised that before. Nate looked sleepy. Kane looked stiff to his eyes, his back ramrod straight, his smile awkward. He was looking down his nose at the photographer as though the man was beneath him. He wondered if he presented that image to Abby as well. If he did, she would probably never see him as anything other than a client. He saved the picture to his computer then printed it out, tucking it into the back of the leather portfolio where he kept his current case notes.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby gets more info regarding her ex and has a proposition for Kane

The Halloween event had been a huge success for Abby, and the happiness of all the children and parents who’d taken part had made all her hard work worthwhile. It had kept her busy and that had been a good thing, because now it was over she was left with an emptiness, and too much time on her hands in which to think and dwell.

She bit the bullet and joined the Jamaica YMCA, which was only a ten-minute drive from Queens Hospital Centre, and started swimming before and after work whenever she could. She treated herself to a new swimming costume, choosing a blue one with a white anchor pattern in a 1950s vintage style simply to make her feel good. It flattered her shape, showed off her long legs, not that there was anyone to appreciate that, nor was she looking for it. It was for her.

She’d finished showering after an early evening swim and was towelling herself dry when she got a phone call from Raven.

“I have some information for you, and I was wondering if we could meet up quickly?” Raven said when Abby answered.

“I’m at the Y in Jamaica right now or we could meet at my home,” she replied, surprised at the short notice.

“The Y is fine. I could use one of their coffees. I’m leaving Kane’s place now so I can be with you in about fifteen minutes if that’s okay.”

“Is Marcus with you?”

“No, it’s just me. Won’t be long.”

Disappointment washed over Abby briefly and then it turned to apprehension. What did Raven have to tell her that necessitated a sudden face-to-face meeting? She finished getting dressed, tying her long, damp hair up into a ponytail, and headed down to the café to await Raven.

“Thanks for meeting me at short notice,” said the girl, heading towards Abby with a warm smile.

“It’s fine. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. What are you drinking?”

“A hot chocolate would be great. Let me get them.”

“Oh, no,” said Raven with a wave of her hand, and she headed to the counter, returning a couple of minutes later with Abby’s hot chocolate, a coffee for herself and a bag of chips she opened and placed between them. “Help yourself,” she said.

Abby nodded but didn’t intend to eat the chips. There wasn’t much point swimming to get fit in body and mind if she then ate a bunch of chips.

“I take it you have some news for me. Is it bad?”

She must have looked worried because Raven paused her ravenous eating of a handful of chips and looked softly at her. “Oh, no, sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s my fault. I’m a kind of do it now person and I don’t often think how that affects other people. Kane says it’s my only fault.” She laughed.

“He must think highly of you.”

“He’s a good guy, the best. I know he seems like he has a poker up his ass most of the time, but he’s dedicated and caring, and he can be a good laugh. Not lately, cause of Sinclair obviously, but usually. He’s cool.”

Abby smiled at Raven’s characterisation of Marcus. He was guarded, but she’d seen the softer side of him, the caring side, and even glimpses of the funny guy.

“I’m grateful to you both,” she said.

“Well, wait until you hear what I have to say. I’m just going to tell you straight; Kane says that’s best, and I agree, but he doesn’t always understand the emotional impact of information, so that’s why I’m telling you, and I’m here for you if you need to talk or anything, okay?”

“Okay,” said Abby, her blood pressure rising as she wondered what information Raven was about to impart. Whatever it was she was going to manage it and act upon it. Be ruthless her lawyer had said, and she was going to try her damnedest.

“I found out where they are living really easily. They have this small two-bedroom apartment in Jackson Heights. It’s on seventy-fourth street just a short way from where you met him. She rents it, been there about two years. He’s been living with her for about the last eight months now as you know, since he left you. He doesn’t seem to have a job, not a legitimate one I can find anyway.”

“Same old Jason. Did you find out anything about her?”

“Yeah. She’s Anne-Marie Campbell. She’s twenty-four and she works as a PA for a recording studio up in the Heights. That’s where they met. I’ve made a lot of enquiries about the nature of their relationship, discreetly of course, and it’s been common knowledge up there, not a secret or anything. I contacted Anne-Marie posing as a graduate trying to make a name for myself as a music journalist and said I was looking for someone to interview so I could sell it to an online magazine. She suggested Jason, so today I interviewed him, and she was there.”

“Oh, my god, that’s genius!” said Abby, impressed with Raven’s guts and ingenuity.

“I’d buttered her up a few times over the phone. We’re the same age so we got on okay and she was keen to promote Jason.”

“I bet she was.”

Raven huffed a laugh. “Yeah. She’s besotted with him I have to tell you that, thinks the sun shines out of his ass.”

“I can’t really criticise her for that; I used to think the same.”

“He has a charm, I can see that, and he’s good at talking himself up, making you think he’s the next big thing waiting to happen.”

“Oh, god, yeah,” said Abby, relieved that Raven had seen that in Jason because she’d been starting to think there was something seriously wrong with her judgement. There was, but she’d been fooled by the same things when she was young and then had remained loyal to him even when she should have realised they were a mistake together.

“Pretty good-looking too.”

“He’s always had that dirty blonde hair and when I first met him it was styled in a quiff which I know sounds cheesy now but at the time they were all the rage. He’d sit strumming his guitar and he was good, he was talented, and he could sing. I used to sit in the corner of a room and watch him, and sometimes he’d change the words of a song to fit me and when we started dating he’d write songs about me or for me. He was full of dreams, and unconventional, and I was from a strait-laced family I suppose. I was a nerd in many ways. I thought he was incredibly attractive. We had a lot of fun together. They were good times for a while.”

It felt good telling Raven these things, made her feel better about how she’d got into this mess. She couldn’t tell Indra anymore because she hated Jason and had always seen right through him, and there was no way she’d tell Marcus because it made her sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, which in many ways she had been.

“I get that, I do. I tend to go for those types myself. Never ends well, though.”

“No,” said Abby, ruefully.

“Anyway, we talked about his career, such as it is. He said he’d put his career on hold to support his ex-wife in her career, but he was trying to kick start it again.”

“He said what?”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. He knows how to spin a line.” Raven laughed and Abby couldn’t help joining in, it was all so ridiculous.

“Jesus.”

“There was an obvious elephant in the room – Anne-Marie’s condition – so I asked them straight up about it, were they starting a family etc. He said meeting Anne-Marie had been the best thing that had ever happened to him, she’d given him the courage to believe in himself and his talent which he hadn’t had before. Yeah, yeah, don’t have a coronary,” she said when she saw the look of incredulity on Abby’s face. “They were expecting the baby together and were excited about this new chapter in their lives blah, blah.”

“The lying bastard!” exclaimed Abby, whose outrage with Jason had reached new heights.

“That’s what Kane said when I told him.” Raven reached across and put her hand on Abby’s where it rested on the table. “I know this was hard to hear, but the good news is I got it all on tape, and he consented to the recording because he thought it was for an interview. It’s totally admissible in court.”

“Oh, Raven, you’re amazing!” Abby gripped Raven’s hand and they sat smiling at each other across the table.

“You okay, though?”

“Yeah. You know, the more I find out about him the harder it makes me, and the more determined. That young guy I fell in love with is long gone. I don’t know who he is anymore. I just want him out of my life.”

“You’re better off without him. I know that’s a cliché but boy it’s true in this case, Abby. I can see why you felt the way you did when you met him, but he’s a shit now, he really is. It’s a pleasure helping you take him down.”

“I really appreciate what you’ve done.”

“There’s still more to do. I’d advise not filing the lawsuit until the baby’s here if you can at all help it. It would be good to get his name on the paperwork. We might be able to subpoena a DNA test if he denies he’s the father, but it would be better if he incriminates himself.”

“Okay. Should I update my lawyer, though?”

“I’ll send you a proper report in the next few days; it will take me a while to transcribe the interview and get everything together. You can send it to her then, but Kane and I are going to carry on looking for any corroborating evidence. The more we have, the better.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for everything you’ve done so far.”

Raven drained her coffee and stood. “No worries. I’ll be in touch.” She gave Abby a brief hug and then left.

Abby drove home, her mind whirring with everything Raven had told her. She had proof! Fantastic proof! It was more than she’d hoped for. She poured herself a glass of wine to celebrate, ordered Chinese takeout then sat on the sofa in her living room, the fire lit and warming. Her phone buzzed with a text; it was from Marcus.

_Is it okay if I call you? Marcus Kane_

It was such a formal text it made her laugh. She called him instead.

“Hi!” he said.

“Hello, Marcus Kane,” she said with a laugh.

“Sorry about that. I thought it best to keep all communications formal as though they’re for our professional relationship.”

“Oh, I see. You want to unburden yourself to me, do you?”

He laughed. “I wanted to check you’d seen Raven and that it had gone okay.”

“I did, thanks. It’s nice of you to call and check.” She settled against the cushion with her drink in her hand. Raven had said he didn’t think about the emotional impact of things on people, but he was clearly concerned about Abby. That made her feel good.

“What did you think?” he said.

“That I married a bastard.”

“You’re divorcing a bastard. I’m sure you thought you were marrying a good person at the time.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“What an asshole, though!”

“I know. I think I’ve gone beyond hating him to a kind of zen-like level of calm. It almost feels like he doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Once you’ve confronted him with all your evidence he won’t exist for you. He’ll be history.”

“I can’t wait for that to happen.”

“Me either,” he replied, and although he probably meant it from a professional point of view his comment made Abby’s pulse race. “Do you have any other questions, or anything you want clarified?” he continued.

“No, Raven was really clear, thank you.”

“Okay.”

They lapsed into silence and Abby sat with her phone pressed to her ear and listened to his breathing, which was oddly comforting. She wondered if he was doing the same.

“How’s Nate?” she said eventually, not because the silence had become oppressive but the space it allowed for thinking and potentially saying something regrettable was growing.

“He finally had his cast off. His arm looks like it belongs to one of those shrivelled mummies they find in ancient bogs or buried in a pyramid.”

Abby nearly spat out her wine at his description. “Poor Nate,” she managed to utter while coughing.

“Yeah. His skin’s all dry and he’s shedding it everywhere. When he gets out of the bath there’s a floating scum left behind, it’s gross!” He laughed.

“Did the hospital advise you on a baby lotion you can use for it?”

“Yes, but he won’t let me put it on. He’s kind of fascinated with the skin. He thinks he’s going to turn into an alien or something.”

“Tell him it’s a potion that superheroes use to make their arms big and strong, that might do the trick.”

“Oh, I will! Good idea.”

“I’m sure they told you this, but encourage him to use it as much as possible so he can build up the muscles again.”

“I will. If the weather’s okay tomorrow I’m going to take him to the park, throw a ball around or something.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you thought about swimming or something like that? That would be great for his arms.” She tried to tell herself afterwards that her suggestion was purely for the benefit of Nate, but that would be a bending of the truth.

“Haven’t thought about that, no. I wouldn’t know where to start to be honest.”

“I’ve recently started swimming again at the Jamaica Y. I noticed they have programs for kids.”

“Do they? I haven’t been swimming in forever.”

Abby’s mouth went suddenly dry, and she took a sip of her wine, trying to be quiet about it. “If you want me to show you both around I could. I’ve prescribed swimming as therapy for a couple of my patients. You remember Holly from the Halloween event?”

“Yes, she was a nice girl.”

“She got a lot out of it, physically and mentally.”

He was silent for a couple of seconds during which time Abby could hear her heart drumming in her ears. What are you doing, Griffin? she said to herself.

“That sounds great. It would be really kind of you to show us around, yes.”

“No problem,” she said as though she was doing him a professional favour and had no ulterior motive whatsoever. “I’ll speak to them tomorrow and see what I can schedule. It will be part of the therapy if you decided to do it, so no cost or anything. The program will fund it.”

“Even better!” he said.

The doorbell buzzed at that moment saving Abby from doing anything else she shouldn’t be doing. “That’s my takeout,” she said.

“Oh, I’ll let you get to it. Thanks for everything, Abby,” said Marcus.

“Thanks for all your hard work with Raven and everything.”

“No problem. Speak soon.”

“Yes. Bye.”

She cancelled the call and went to the door to collect her food. She sat at the table eating it, trying not to think about what she was thinking and feeling and doing with regard to Marcus Kane.


End file.
